UC-NRLF 


B    3    ms    b5=i 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arciiive 

in  2008  witii  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


littp://www.arcliive.org/details/emperorserapisOOeberricli 


THE  EMPEROR 


A  ROMANCE. 


BY  GEORGE  EBERS. 


SERAPIS 


AN     HISTORICAL     NOVEL. 


BY  GEOEGE  EBERS. 


NEW  YORK: 
JOHN  AV.    LOVELL  COMPANY 

142  'I'o  ITiO  WoiiTii  Stkeet. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  years  1881  and  1888,  by 

GEORGE  MUNRO, 

in  th»  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  Washington,  D.  C. 


GIF! 


PREFACE. 


FouKTEEK  years  ago  I  had  planned  the  story  contained  in 
tliis  vohime  to  follow  a  series  of  lectures  on  the  Eoman 
dominion  in  Egypt.  But  scientific  labors  kept  back  for  a 
time  this  desire  for  poetic  creation,  and  when  its  wings  began 
again  to  flutter  I  felt  obliged  to  take  up  other  material.  This 
exjDlains  why  the  reign  of  Hadrian  becomes  the  background  of 
a  romance,  following  one  laid  at  the  earlier  epoch  of  the 
Anchorite  movement. 

After  finishing  that  romance,  my  old  wish  to  bring  together, 
in  the  style  of  fiction,  the  most  imjDortant  jjeriods  in  the  his- 
tory of  that  venerable  race,  to  the  study  of  which  I  have  conse- 
crated a  quarter  of  a  century,  found  its  realization. 

The  brilhant  epoch  of  the  times  of  the  Pharaohs  I  have  tried 
to  depict  in  "  Uarda;"  the  subjection  of  Egypt  to  the  youth- 
ful sovereignty  of  Persia  in  the  "  Egyptian  Princess;^'  the 
epoch  of  Hellenic  control  under  the  reign  of  the  Lagides 
(Ptolemies),  in  "  The  Sisters;"  the  Roman  dominion,  and  the 
early  ups}^ ringing  of  Christianity  in  "  The  Emjjeror;"  and 
the  Anchorite  movement  through  the  deserts  and  rocky  regions 
in  the  neighborhood  of  Egypt,  in  "  Homo  Sum." 

So  "  The  Emperor  "  is  the  last  of  which  the  scene  will  be 
laid  in  ancient  Egypt.  This  series  of  romances  will  not  only 
have  made  my  readers  acquainted  with  the  history  of  civiliza- 
tion among  the  Egyptians,  but  ought  to  facilitate  their  under- 
standing of  a  few  specially  mighty  ideas  that  moved  antiquity. 
How  well  I  have  succeeded  in  representing  these  epochs  in 
their  true  colors,  and  giving  an  air  of  reality  to  the  pictures,  I 
may  not  venture  to  judge.  For  since  present  things  appear 
differently  to  different  minds,  the  same  must  be  more  strik- 
ingly true  of  those  long  past  and  half  forgotten. 

How  often  I  was  obliged,  when  denied  the  means  of  certify- 
ing something  of  remote  date,  and  claiming  counsel  and  assist- 
ance from  imagination,  to  remember  the  remark,  that  the 
poet  is  only  a  prophet  looking  backward.     I  have  dared  to 


VIM  PREFACE. 

jilldw  Fancy  quietly  to  unfold  her  wings,  for  I  was  her  master, 
and  knew  the  limits  beyond  which  her  flight  coidd  not  be  per- 
mitted. And  while  maintaining  the  right  to  use  my  inventive 
jiowers,  I  have  introduced  nothing  which  would  have  been  im- 
possible at  the  epoch  represented.  Considerations  of  proba- 
bility have  everywhere  fixed  the  limits  of  imagination.  Where 
the  existing  sources  were  full  and  reliable,  I  have  not  exceeded 
them;  and  this  ray  fellow-students  in  Germany,  England, 
France,  and  Holland  have  more  than  once  testified.  I  scarcely 
need  to  state  that  fictitious  verity  is  quite  another  thing  than 
historic  verity;  for  the  one  must  remain  unafl'ected  by  the 
subjectivity  of  its  discoverer,  while  the  other  can  only  exist  by 
the  use  of  the  artist's  imaginative  power.  I  leave  "  The  Em- 
peror,'' as  I  have  my  two  later  romances,  without  notes.  I  do 
this  in  the  happy  consciousness  of  having  won,  through  other 
and  more  profound  works,  a  right  to  the  confidence  of  my 
readers.  Nothing  has  more  inspired  me  to  undertake  fresh 
works  of  imagination  than  the  fact  that,  through  their  read- 
ing, some  young  minds  have  been  drawn  to  a  study  of  the 
profounder  works,  whose  names  are  already  mentioned  with 
honor  among  Egj'ptologists. 

Those  familiar  with  the  time  of  Hadrian  will  recognize  by 
minute  indications  from  which  author,  inscription,  or  monu- 
ment my  details  have  been  gathered;  and  1  need  not  disturb 
the  course  of  the  story  among  the  larger  circle  of  my  readers. 

It  Avould  make  me  unhapj^y  should  tliis  romance  deserve  the 
name  of  a  genuine  work  of  art,  whose  chief  object  must  ever 
be  to  jjlease  and  elevate;  and  he  who  receives,  at  the  same 
time,  any  enlargement  of  knowledge  will  scarcely  notice  that 
he  has  been  instructed. 

Those  familiar  with  the  history  of  Alexandria  under  the 
Romans  will  be  surprised  that  I  make  no  mention  of  the 
Therapeutic,  on  Lake  Mareotis.  I  had  originally  intended  to 
have  a  chapter  on  this  subject,  but  the  latest  researches  of 
Lucii  decided  me  to  leave  it  unwritten. 

J  have  devoted  years  of  study  to  the  infancy  of  Christianity, 
esi)ecially  in  Egypt,  and  it  gives  me  especial  satisfaction  to 
testify  that  in  the  time  of  Hadrian  the  23ure  doctrines  of  the 
Recdemer,  with  few  human  additions,  had  taken  possession  of 
the  hearts  of  moi,  as  they  could  not  fail  to  do. 

Beside  this  triumiihant  faith  I  have  set  that  noble  blossom 
of  (I rock  development — art — which,  in  later  centuries  of 
Cliristianity,  became  so  closely  associated  with  it,  in  order  to 
enrich  herself  witli  its  beautiful  forms.  The  busts  and  statues 
of  Antinous,  which  date  from  the  time  of  my  story,  prove  that 


PREFACE.  ix 

uucler  Hadrian  the  withering  plant  was  destined  to  send  out 
fresh  shoots. 

The  romantic  attributes  I  ascribe  to  my  world-wandering 
herO;,  who  ascended  the  mountains  to  rejoice  in  the  rising  sun, 
are  true  to  fact. 

One  of  the  most  difficult  tasks  I  have  ever  attempted  was 
that  of  constructing  a  character  from  so  many  contradictory 
statements,  which  I  could  m3^self  believe  to  be  true;  but  how 
gladly  I  have  attempted  it! 

In  the  surroundings  of  this  fiction  there  was  much  to  be- 
considered,  but  it  has  been  written  out  of  the  very  heart  of  its 
author. 

May  it  also  find  its  way  into  the  hearts  of  my  readers! 

Geoege  Ebees. 

Leipsic,  Nov.  2,  1880. 


THE  EMPEROR. 


PART  L 


CHAPTEE  I. 

The  morning  twilight  had  passed;  the  sun  of  the  first  day 
of  December,  a.  d.  129,  had  risen,  though  veiled  in  a  white  sea 
fog.     It  was  cold. 

The  Kasius,  a  mountain  of  medium  height,  rose  from  a 
tongue  of  coast-land  between  Southern  Palestine  and  Egypt, 
and  was  washed  on  its  northern  side  by  the  sea.  To-day  it 
did  not  shimmer  and  gleam  in  ultramarine  light.  The  distant 
waves  were  dark,  but  as  they  rolled  nearer,  changed  into  a 
greenish-gray  color,  which  looked  against  the  horizon  like 
dusty  sod  on  a  dark  lava  surface. 

The  north-east  wind  which  had  sprung  up  since  sunrise  was 
steadily  increasing  in  violence,  and  milk-white  foam  tipped  the 
waves,  though  as  yet  they  did  not  dash  strongly  against  the 
foot  of  the  mountain,  but  rather  rose  in  long,  heavy  swells,  as 
if  made  of  molten  lead.  Yet  clear  drops  spirted  upward  when 
the  sea-gulls,  flying  in  restless  troops  backward  and  forward, 
uttering  their  shrill  cry,  touched  the  water  with  their  wings. 

Three  men  came  slowly  along  the  mountain  jiath  that  led 
from  the  summit  to  the  plain  below,  but  only  the  oldest  of 
them — who  walked  in  advance  of  the  others — looked  at  the 
sky,  the  sea,  the  gulls  in  flight,  and  the  desolate  surface  of 
the  wilderness.  Now  he  stood  still,  and  both  his  companions 
did  likewise,  with  a  mechanical  motion. 

The  landscape,  spreading  out  below,  seemed  to  chain  his 
gaze,  and  a  slight  inclination  of  his  head  gave  expression  to 
his  interest. 

A  narrow  strip  of  desert,  divided  by  two  bodies  of  water, 
stretched  westward  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach.  Upon  this 
natural  dike  a  caravan  was  moving.  The  feet  of  the  camels 
fell  silently  upon  the  yielding  sand.  The  riders  in  their  white 
mantles  seemed  to  sleep,  and  the  drivers  to  dream.  The  gray 
eagles  beside  the  jDath  were  not  disturbed  by  their  presence. 
To  the  right  of  the  low  ground,  along  which  the  road  from 
Syria  to  Egypt  ran,  lay  tlie  lusterless  sea,  enveloped  in  gray 


12  THE  EMPEROR. 

clouds;  on  the  left  was  that  strange  expanse,  whose  end  toward 
east  and  west  tlie  eye  could  not  discover,  and  which  seemed 
sometimes  a  snow-lield,  sometimes  a  pool,  or  from  some  other 
point  a  thicket  of  reeds  and  rushes. 

The  oldest  of  the  three  travelers  kept  his  attention  con- 
stantly directed  to  the  heavens  and  into  the  distance;  the 
second,  a  slave,  who  bore  the  wraps  and  the  packages,  did  not 
turn  his  glance  away  from  his  master;  while  the  third,  a  free 
youth,  walked  with  eyes  upon  the  ground  as  if  in  a  dream. 

A  broad  road,  crossing  that  from  the  mountain  summit  to  the 
coast,  led  toward  a  stately  temple,  and  into  this  the  bearded 
traveler  turned. 

But  he  had  proceeded  only  a  few  steps  when  he  stopped, 
turned  his  head  involuntarily,  murmured  a  few  unintelligible 
words,  and  rapidly  retraced  his  steps  to  the  narrow  path  lead- 
ing into  the  valley. 

His  young  companion  followed  without  raising  his  eyes,  or 
seeming  to  disturb  his  dreams,  as  though  he  were  a  mere 
shadow. 

But  the  slave  lifted  his  closely  shorn  head,  and  a  smile 
curled  his  liji  when  he  saw  an  old  shepherd-wife  bending  over 
the  dead  body  of  a  Idd  beside  the  path,  who  hastily  drew  the 
blue-black  veil  over  her  wrinkled  face  at  the  approach  of  the 
strangers. 

"  That  exj^lains  it,'^  murmured  the  slave  to  himself,  throw- 
ing a  kiss  to  a  black-haired  maiden  who  crouched  beside  the 
old  woman.  But  the  child  did  not  notice  his  dumb  salute,  for 
her  eyes  followed  his  superior's,  esjoecially  the  younger  man. 
As  soon  as  the  three  had  passed,  so  far  that  her  voice  could 
not  be  heard,  the  maiden  asked,  in  repi-essed  voice,  and  trem- 
bling as  if  touched  by  a  sjiirit  from  the  wilderness: 

"  Grandmother,  who  was  that?" 

The  old  woman  laid  her  finger  on  the  lips  of  the  child,  and 
whispered  timidly,  as  she  lifted  the  veil  from  her  face:  "  It  is 
he." 

"  The  emperor?" 

iSlie  answered  by  an  emphatic  nod;  but  the  maiden  pressed 
with  ijassionate  eagerness  against  her  grandmother,  and 
stretching  her  head  forward  for  a  better  view,  asked: 

"  The  younger?" 

"  Fool!     The  first  one,  the  gray-beard.'* 

"  He?     I  would  rather  the  younger  were  the  emperor. " 

It  was  in  truth  the  Homau  Emperor  Hadrian  who  walked 
silently  in  advance  of  his  conipanions,  and  his  coming  seemed 
to  animate  the  desert,  for  at  his  aj)]) roach  the  ^jlovers  Hew  up- 


THE   EMPEEOK.  13 

ward  out  of  the  reeds  with  their  shrill  cry;  and  from  behind  a 
sand-hill  on  the  broader  road  where  Hadrian  turned  appeared 
two  men  in  priestly  garments.  They  belonged  to  the  Temple 
of  Baal,  of  Mount  Casius,  a  small  structure  of  stone  which  the 
emperor  had  visited  on  the  previous  day. 

"  Has  he  mistaken  the  path?^"*  asked  one  priest  of  the  other, 
in  the  Phoenician  dialect. 

"  Scarcely/"  was  the  reply.  "  Mastor  tells  me  he  can  find 
any  path  over  which  he  has  once  passed,  even  in  the  darkness. " 

"  And  yet  he  looks  more  into  the  clouds  than  upon  the 
earth.'' 

"  But  he  promised  us  yesterday — " 

"  He  did  not  speak  positively,"  interrupted  the  other. 

"  I  think  he  did.  In  taking  leave,  I  distinctly  heard  him 
say:  '  Perhaps  I  shall  come  again,  to  consult  your  oracle.'  " 

*' Perhaps — " 

"  I  think  he  said,  '  i3robably. '  " 

"  Who  knows  what  token  he  may  have  seen  in  the  sky  that 
directs  him  onward.  He  is  going  toward  the  encampment  by 
the  sea." 

"  But  in  our  banqueting-hall  the  meal  stands  ready  for 
him." 

"  He  will  also  find  m  the  camp  what  he  needs.  Come,  it  is 
a  disagreeable  morning.     I  am  very  cold." 

"Wait  a  little— look." 

"For  what?" 

"  He  wears  no  hat  over  his  gray  hair.'" 

"  No  one  ever  saw  him  traveling  with  covered  head." 

"  And  his  gray  mantle  is  not  imperial." 

"  At  a  banquet  he  always  wears  the  pm'iDle." 

"  Do  you  know  of  whom  his  gait  and  his  general  aj)pearance 
remind  me?" 

"  Of  whom,  then?" 

"  Of  our  late  high-priest  Abibaal;  he  walked  with  the  same 
majesty  and  thoughtf  ulness,  and  wore  his  hair  like  the  em- 
peror." 

"  Yes,  and  the  deep,  searching  eye." 

"  He  also  looked  often  upward.  They  have  the  same  broad 
forehead;  but  Abibaal's  nose  was  more  bowed,  and  his  hair  less 
curly." 

"  Our  master's  mouth  was  grave  and  earnest,  while  the  lip 
of  Hadrian  curls  as  if  he  were  always  on  the  point  of  exjoress- 
ing  ridicule. " 

"  Look  now,  he  turns  to  liis  favorite." 

"  Antonius,  I  believe  they  call  the  handsome  fellow?" 


14  THE   EMPEROR. 

''  Antiuous,  not  iVntomus.  He  loickcd  him  up  in  Bithynia, 
I  have  been  told.''' 

"  He  is  handsome/' 

"Yes,  without  a  paralleh  What  jiroportions!  What  a 
countenance!    Yet  I  woidd  not  like  him  for  my  son." 

"  The  emperor's  favorite?" 

"  Even  the  same.     He  looks  as  if  ho  had  tasted  every  j^leas- 

ure,  and  could  find  no  more  joy." 

******* 

Several  tents  occupied  a  level  sjaace  directly  on  the  shore  of 
the  sea,  protected  by  the  broken  cliffs  from  the  east  wind.  A 
fire  burned  m  the  middle  of  the  inclosure,  and  around  it  were 
gathered  Koman  soldiers  and  servants  of  the  emperor. 

Half-naked  boys,  children  of  the  fishermen  and  camel  drivers 
ran  busily  back  and  forth,  feeding  the  llame  with  dry  reeds 
and  desert  shrubs;  but  in  spite  of  all  their  efforts,  the  wind 
blew  it  sideward  m  little  clouds  near  the  ground.  It  was  as  if 
the  flames  feared  to  ventm-e  into  the  gray,  dam]?,  unfriendly 
sky. 

The  largest  of  the  tents,  before  which  four  Roman  soldiers 
kept  guard,  alternatmg  in  pairs,  stood  wide  open  toward  the 
sea. 

The  slaves,  who  came  out,  bearing  upon  their  shorn  heads 
trays  containing  gold  and  silver  vessels,  plates,  wine-tankards 
and  goblets,  with  the  remnants  of  av  feast,  were  forced  to  hold 
them  fast  with  both  hands,  to  guard  them  from  its  violence. 

The  interior  of  the  tent  was  without  ornament.  Ui^on  a 
cushion  near  the  storm-shaken  canvas  wall  reclined  the  em- 
peror. His  bloodless  lips  were  compressed,  his  arms  crossed 
over  the  breast,  and  his  eyes  half  closed. 

But  he  was  not  sleejiing,  and  often  moved  his  lips,  as  though 
tasting  food.  Sometimes  he  opened  wide  the  blue-veined  and 
deeply  lined  lids,  glancing  upward,  or  looking  downward  to- 
ward the  middle  of  the  tent,  where  Antinous  was  stretched  on 
a  bear-skin. 

The  head  of  a  bear  had  been  artistically  arranged  to  serve 
as  a  pillow,  and  on  this  rested  the  handsome  head  of  the 
youth.  His  right  leg  played  freely  in  the  air,  supported  by 
the  left,  and  his  hands  Avere  busied  with  the  Molossian  dog  of 
the  emj^eror,  which  now  rested  his  head  on  the  luiked  breast 
of  tlie  youth,  now  stretched  it  toward  his  mouth,  to  testify  his 
affection  by  a  canine  caress.  But  when  he  attempted  the 
latt(!r,  Anthious  playfully  ])inc]ied  his  snout  or  wrapi)ed  him 
in  tlie  white  pallium  that  fell  from  his  own  shoulder. 

The  dog  seemed  to  enjoy  the  sport;  but  once,  in  fading  to 


THE   EMPEROR.  15 

free  himself  from  tlie  pallinm,  he  howled,  which  attracted  the 
attention  of  the  emj^eror,  who  cast  an  annoyed  look  downward 
toward  the  bear-skin — only  a  look — not  a  word  of  fault-find- 
ing. But  the  expression  of  his  eye  changed  as  it  rested  on  the 
beautiful  figure  of  the  youth.  It  was  as  if  he  contemplated  a 
noble  work  of  art.  And  truly  it  was  godlike — wonderfully 
soft,  and  yet  vigorous  was  every  muscle  of  neck,  breast,  limTjs. 
The  features  of  a  human  face  were  never  more  regularly 
chiseled. 

Antinous  saw  that  the  attention  of  his  master  was  attracted 
by  his  sport  with  the  d^og.  So  he  gave  him  his  freedom,  and 
turned  his  large  languid  eyes  to  the  emperor. 

"  What  are  you  doing?"  asked  Hadrian. 

"  Nothing/'  was  the  answer. 

"  No  one  does  nothing.  Whoever  believes  he  is  unoccupied 
thinks,  and  thinking  is  much.'' 

"  I  can  not  think." 

"  Every  one  thinks,  and  if  you  were  not  doing  it  then,  it 
was  because  you  were  at  play. " 

"  Yes,  with  the  dog." 

And  with  these  words  Antinous  let  his  legs  fall  to  the 
ground,  drove  the  dog  away,  and  placed  both  hands  under  liis 
curly  head. 

"  Are  you  tired?"  asked  the  emperor. 

"Yes." 

"  We  have  watched  the  same  portion  of  the  night,  and  I, 
who  am  so  much  older,  feel  myself  fresh." 
I    "  You  said  yesterday  old  soldiers  were  worth  more  for  night 
service. " 

The  emperor  nodded,  and  said : 

"  At  your  age,  one  lives  three  times  as  fast  as  at  mine,  and 
needs  a  double  amount  of  sleep.  You  have  reason  to  be  tired. 
It  was  three  o'clocJc  when  we  climbed  the  mountain,  but 
how  often  a  banquet  continues  later  than  that." 

"  It  was  cold  and  disagreeable  up  there." 

"  Only  after  sunrise." 

"  You  did  not  notice  it  before,  because  you  were  busy  with 
the  stars. " 

"  And  you  only  with  yourself,  that  is  plain." 

"  1  thought  also  of  your  health  when  the  air  grew  so  cold 
before  the  coming  of  Hehos." 

"  I  must  await  his  appearance." 

"  Do  you  learn  of  the  future  from  the  manner  of  the  sun- 


rise 


Hadrian  glanced  strangely  at  the  questioner,  shook  his  head 


10  THE   EirrEROR. 

as  in  denial,  looked  ujward  at  the  tent  roof,  and,  after  a  long 
pause,  said,  in  rather  disconnected  sentences:  "The  day  is 
sim])ly  present  time,  and  future  things  come  forth  out  of  dark- 
ness. Out  of  the  clod  comes  the  grain,  and  rain  from  the 
black  cloud ;  from  the  womb  spring  new  races — the  freshness 
of  the  members  is  renewed  in  sleep.  Who  knows,  then,  what 
may  follow  the  darkness  of  death?^' 

When  the  emperor  had  been  some  time  silent  the  youth 
asked : 

"  If  the  sunrise  teach  you  nothing  of  the  future,  why  do  you 
so  often  deny  your  nightly  rest,  and  climb  the  mountain  to  see 
it?" 

"Wherefore?  Wherefore?"  said  Hadrian,  slowly,  in  reply, 
thoughtfully  stroking  his  gray  beard,  and  adding,  as  if  speak- 
ing only  to  himself:  "  There  is  no  answer  to  such  a  question, 
and,  if  I  could  express  it,  who  would  xmderstand  me?  One 
comes  nearest  to  it  through  a  figure.  We  are  all  actors  on  the 
stage  of  the  world.  Now  he  that  will  be  tall  in  the  theater 
Avears  a  certain  style  of  boot.  And  is  not  a  mountain  the 
highest  uplift  a  man  can  put  under  the  soles  of  his  feet?  The 
Casius  yonder  is  a  mere  hill,  but  I  have  stood  on  higher  points 
and  looked  upon  the  clouds  far  below,  as  Jupiter  from  his 
Olymjjus.'^ 

"  You  need  not  ascend  a  mountain  to  feel  yourself  a  god," 
cried  Antinous. 

"  Men  call  you  the  godlike.  You  command,  and  the  world 
must  obey.  One  is  always  nearer  heaven  on  the  top  of  a 
mountain,  but — " 

"  Well?" 

"  I  can  not  trust  myself  to  utter  the  thought. " 

"Speak." 

"  There  was  a  little  maiden;  when  I  lifted  her  upon  my 
shoulder  she  would  stretch  her  arm  upward,  and  say:  'I  am  so 
great !'  She  thought  herself  then  taller  than  I  was,  and  yet 
she  was  only  the  little  Panthea. " 

"  But,  according  to  your  illustration,  she  was  great,  and  that 
is  the  point,  since  for  each,  all  things  are  only  what  he  believes 
them.  It  is  true  they  call  me  godhke,  but  I  feel  a  hundred 
times  every  day  the  limitations  of  humanity,  beyond  which  I 
can  not  pass.  On  the  top  of  a  mountain  I  am  less  con- 
scious of  them.  Then  it  seems  to  me  that  I  am  great,  for 
nothing  earthly  rises  above  me.  And  when,  standing  there, 
tlic  night  fiies  away,  and  the  dawn  of  a  new  day  breaks  upon 
tlie  woi-ld,  my  breast  heaves,  and  my  lungs  joyfully  inhale  the 
pure  and  rarified  atmosphere.     Alone,  hi  the  deep  silence,  dis- 


THE   EMPEROR.  17 

turbed  by  nothing  that  goes  on  below,  I  feel  myself  one  with 
broad  nature.  The  waves  of  the  sea  swell  and  break;  the  trees 
of  the  forest  bend  their  crowns,  vapor  and  clouds  roll  beneath 
and  scatter  themselves  hither  and  thither,  and  I  am  so  dis- 
solved into  the  creation  without  that  it  often  seems  to  be  my 
own  breath  which  moves  them.  I  soar  through  the  distance 
with  the  crane  and  the  swallow,  and  get  a  glimpse  of  that  un- 
attainable limit  which  the  soul  seeks  to  win.  My  whole  being 
expands,  and  that  longing  disappears  which  oppresses  me  in 
the  tumult  of  life  and  among  the  cares  of  the  state.  But  you 
do  not  understand  it,  my  boy;  these  are  things  I  can  share 
with  no  other  mortal. " 

"  Do  not  scorn  to  show  them  to  me,"  cried  Antinous,  who 
had  turned  himself  fully  toward  the  emperor,  and  with  wide- 
open  eyes,  had  lost  none  of  his  words. 

"  To  you?"  asked  Hadrian,  and  a  smile  not  free  from  ridi- 
cule flew  to  his  lips;  "  I  have  no  more  secrets  from  you  than 
from  the  Venus  of  Praxitiles,  in  my  library  at  Rome. " 

The  blood  flooded  the  cheeks  of  the  youth  until  they  were 
purple.  The  emperor  saw  this,  and  added,  in  kindly  tone: 
"You  are  more  to  me  than  any  artistes  work.  The  marble 
can  not  blush.  Beauty  governed  life  in  the  time  of  the 
Athenian;  but  you  have  proved  to  me  that  the  gods  are  still 
pleased  to  incorjjorate  it.  Your  coimtenauce  reconciles  me  to 
the  discords  of  being,  and  blesses  me,  but  how  can  I  expect 
you  to  understand  me?  Your  brow  was  not  made  for  pro- 
found thought.     But  did  you  comiDrehend  any  of  my  words?' ^ 

Antinous  half  rose,  supporting  himself  upon  his  left  arm. 
He  raised  the  right,  and  uttered  a  decisive  "  Yes." 

"  Which  of  them?"  asked  the  emperor. 

"  I  know  the  longing.^' 

"After  what?" 

"  After  many  things." 

"  Name  to  me  one." 

''  Enjoyment  which  no  disappointment  will  follow.  I  know 
none. ' ' 

"  This  desire  you  share  with  all  Eoman  youth;  they  enjoy 
themselves  without  any  regard  to  the  consequences.'" 

"I  dare  not." 

"  Who  has  forbidden  your  speaking  frankly  to  me?'' 
"  You  yourself." 
"I?" 

"  Yes,  you;  for  you  forbade  me  to  speak  to  you  of  my  home, 
my  mother,  my  kindred." 


IH  THE  EMPEROR. 

The  emperor's  brow  darkened,  and  ho  replied,  sternly: 

"  I  am  your  father,  and  your  whole  soul  belongs  to  me." 

"It  is  your  own,^'  answered  the  youtli,  as  he  let  himself 
sink  back  upon  the  bear-skin  and  drew  the  pallium  closer 
about  his  shoulders;  for  a  gust  blew  cold  through  the  open 
door  of  the  tent,  as  Phlegon,  the  private  secretary  of  the  em- 
2)eror,  entered,  followed  by  a  slave  bearing  many  sealed  rolls 
under  the  arm. 

**  Is  it  agreeable  to  you,  Caesar,  that  we  deliver  the  letters 
and  dispatches  which  have  just  arrived?'*  asked  the  officer, 
whose  carefully  arranged  hair  had  been  disturbed  by  the  sea- 
breeze. 

"  Yes;  and  then  we  will  learn  what  is  to  be  observed  in  the 
heavens  to-night.     Have  you  the  tablets  at  hand?" 

''  They  are  spread  out  in  your  working  tent,  Csesar.'' 

"  Has  the  storm  become  heavy?" 

"  It  seems  to  come  from  both  north  and  east.  The  sea  runs 
very  high.     The  empress  will  have  a  rough  passage. " 

"  When  did  she  embark?" 

"  The  anchor  was  raised  about  midnight.  The  ship  which 
carries  her  to  Alexandria  is  a  handsome  vessel,  but  she  rolls 
disagreeably  from  side  to  side. ' ' 

Hadrian  laughed  aloud  at  these  words,  and  said: 

"  That  will  turn  both  heart  and  stomach  upside  down.  I 
could  wish  I  were  there!  But  no;  by  all  the  gods,  no,  I  would 
not.  To-day  she  will  certainly  forget  to  paint.  And  who 
will  build  up  her  hair,  since  the  same  calamity  will  overtake 
her  women?  We  will  remain  here  to-day,  for  should  I  meet 
her  soon  after  her  arrival  in  Alexandria,  she  would  be  truly 
vinegar  and  gall. " 

Hadrian  rose  with  these  words,  and  went  out  with  the  sec- 
retary, giving  a  parting  salute  to  Antinous. 

A  third  person  had  been  present  during  the  conversation 
between  the  emperor  and  his  favorite.  Tin's  was  Master,  a 
native  of  Jazyes,  and  a  slave;  so  no  more  recognized  than  the 
Molossian  dog  or  the  cushion  upon  which  the  emperor  reclined. 

For  some  time  he  tried  by  various  motions  to  attract  the 
attention  of  Antinous,  who,  having  covered  his  face  with  his 
hands,  had  buried  both  in  the  bear's-head  pillow.  He  did  not 
venture  to  speak,  because  the  youth  was  unequal  in  his  manner 
toward  him.  Sometimes  he  listened  with  evident  pleasure, 
and  spoke  as  a  friend,  but  at  others  he  repulsed  him  with  more 
harsliness  than  the  veriest  upstart  manifests  to  his  lowest 
servant. 

At  last  the  slave  gathered  courage — for  it  seemed  less  pain- 


THE   EMPEROE.  19 

ful  to  receive  the  rebuke  than  to  shut  withm  himself  the  sym- 
pathetic thought — and  called  him  by  name. 

Antinous  raised  his  head,  and  asked:  "  What  do  you  wisli?^" 

' '  I  only  want  to  say  that  I  know  what  maiden  you  sj^oke 
of.     It  was  the  little  sister  of  whom  you  told  me. " 

Antinous  nodded,  buried  his  face  again  in  his  hands,  and 
the  movement  of  his  shoulders  told  that  he  wept. 

Mastor  was  silent  a  few  moments,  but  then  he  stepped 
nearer  to  Antinous,  saying:  *'  I  have  a  son  and  a  pet  daughter 
at  home,  and  I  love  to  hear  of  little  maidens.  We  are  now 
alone,  and  if  it  would  lighten  your  heart — " 

"  Why,  man,  I  have  told  you  ten  times  already  of  my 
mother  and  the  little  Panthea,''  replied  Antinous,  trying  to 
seem  undisturbed. 

"■  So  do  it  then  for  the  eleventh,"  begged  the  slave.  "  I 
can  sj^eak  of  my  own  as  often  as  I  please  in  the  tents  and  in 
the  kitchen.  But  you —  What  did  you  call  the  little  dog  for 
whom  Panthea  made' the  red  cap?'^ 

"  We  called  him  Kalliste,"  said  Antinous,  wiping  his  eyes 
with  the  back  of  his  hand,  "  My  father  had  no  patience  with 
him;  but  we  won  over  the  mother.  I  was  her  favorite,  and 
when  I  hung  about  her  with  imploring  glances,  she  always 
said  '  yes  '  to  all  I  asked. " 

A  happier  light  gleamed  in  the  eyes  of  the  youth,  for  he  had 
been  recalled  to  the  memory  of  joys,  after  which  followed  no 
satiety. 


CHAPTER  II. 

One  of  the  palaces  built  by  the  Ptolemaic  princes  in  Alex- 
andria stood  on  a  land-spit  called  Lochias,  which  ran  out  to- 
ward the  north  like  a  white  finger  pointing  over  the  blue  sea. 
This  formed  the  eastern  boundary  of  the  large  harbor.  Al- 
M'ays  filled  with  sea-craft,  it  was  to-day  especially  jDopulous, 
and  the  stone-joaved  quay  which  led  from  the  sea-washed 
quarter  of  the  city — the  so-called  Bruchiom — to  the  land-spit 
was  crowded  with  carriages  and  foot-jDassengers  pressing  to- 
ward the  i^rivate  landing-place  for  vessels  belonging  to  the 
emperor.  All  were  curious  to  see  the  magnificent  triremes, 
galleys,  and  ships  of  burden  which  had  brought  the  wife  of 
Hadrian,  with  a  crowd  of  nobles  and  attendants,  to  Alexan- 
dria. One  large  vessel,  with  a  very  high  cabin  on  the  rear 
deck,  and  the  head  of  a  she- wolf  at  the  beak-head,  excited  the 
greatest  attention.  It  was  made  of  cedar,  elaborately  orna- 
mented with  ivory  and  bronze,  and  named  "Sabina."    A 


20  THE  EMPEROR. 

young  citizen,  pointing  to  tho  gilded  letters  on  the  stern, 
]iudged  his  comi^anion,  saying,  with  a  laugh,  *'  *  Sabina '  has 
the  head  of  a  she-Avolf/' 

"'  A  peacock's  would  have  been  more  fitting.  Did  you  see 
Ikt  as  slie  rode  into  the  (/aisareum  yesterday?''  was  the  reply. 

"Unfortunately — "  began  the  first  siJeaker,  but  became 
suddenly  silent  when  he  noticed  a  Eoman  lictor  standmg  close 
behind  with  a  bundle  of  elm-rods  on  his  shoulder — his  fasces — 
who,  with  his  companions,  were  trying  to  divide  the  crowd  and 
make  room  for  the  chariot  of  the  Imi^erial  Prefect  Titianus, 
which  was  slowly  advancing.  This  high  officer  noticed  the 
tmguarded  speech  of  the  citizen,  and,  pulling  the  toga  of  his 
neighbor  with  a  raj^id  motion,  said: 

A  strange  peoi^le  this.  I  can  not  show  myself  displeased 
with  them,  but  I  would  rather  ride  on  a  knife-blade  from  here 
to  Cajiojnis  than  on  an  Alexandrian  tongue. " 

"  Did  you  hear  what  the  stout  fellow  here  said  of  Varus?" 

"  The  lictor  would  have  seized  him,  but  one  gains  nothing 
by  severity.  If  they  had  to  pay  one  sesterce  for  every  jwison- 
ous  word,  I  assure  you,  Pontius,  the  city  would  be  beggared, 
and  our  treasury  as  full  as  that  of  the  old  G3rges  of  Sardis." 

"  Let  them  keep  their  money,"  rephed  the  other,  the  chief 
architect  of  the  city,  a  man  of  about  tliirt}^,  with  deej^-set, 
searching  eyes  and  a  bass  voice,  as  he  gathered  up  the  roll  in 
his  hand  more  firmly;  "  they  know  how  to  M'ork,  and  sweating 
is  briny.  Active  hi  labor,  in  their  i)lay  time  they  bite  one  an- 
other like  high-spirited  horses  harnessed  together.  The  wolf 
is  a  splendid  beast,  but  if  you  break  out  liis  teeth  he  is  only  a 
filthy  dog." 

''  You  speak  my  very  soul,"  answered  the  prefect.  ''  But 
here  we  are.  Eternal  gods!  I  did  not  think  that  thing  could 
be  so  shabby.     From  a  distance  it  ai)2'»eared  magnificent  I" 

Titianus  and  the  architect  left  the  chariot,  the  former  order- 
ing a  lictor  to  call  the  overseer  of  the  jialace,  and  then  turning 
with  his  companion  to  ins23ect  the  gate.  At  a  distance  its  ap- 
pearance, with  the  double  row  of  columns  and  high  arched 
gable,  was  quite  imposing;  but  the  stucco  had  fallen  from  the 
wall,  the  capitals  of  the  marble  jaillars  were  mutilated,  and  the 
bronzed  doors  hung  awry. 

1'he  sharp  eye  of  Pontius  marked  all  these  tilings,  as  he  fol- 
lowed the  prefect  into  the  outer  court,  where,  during  the  reign 
of  the  Ptolemies,  had  stood  tents  for  the  ministers,  scribes,  and 
active  officers  of  the  king.  Here  they  met  an  imexpected  ob- 
stacle in  lines  of  rope  stretched  diagonally  from  the  house  of 
the  gate-keeper  across  the  old  i)avement,  where  now  the  grass 


THE   EMPEROK.  21 

^vas  growing  and  thistles  were  in  bloom.     These  lines  were 
covered  with  newly  washed  garments  of  every  size  and  shape. 

"  A  nice  location  for  the  emperor,"  sighed  Titianus,  shrug- 
ging his  shoulders  and  restraining  the  lictor  from  striking 
down  the  clothes-line  with  his  fasces. 

"  It  is  not  so  had  as  it  looks,"  said  the  architect.  "  Door- 
keeper! Hey,  door-keeper!  Where  has  the  good-for-nothing 
fellow  hidden  himself?" 

While  he  called,  and  the  lictor  hastened  within  the  palace, 
Pontius  picked  his  way  among  the  wet  clothes  to  the  little 
house  of  the  gate-keeper.  His  countenance  expressed  impa- 
tience and  vexation  since  he  had  crossed  the  threshold  of  the 
gate,  but  now  he  began  to  laugh,  and  with  a  whisper  he  called 
to  the  prefect. 

"  Titianus,  take  the  trouble  to  come  here!" 

The  elder  dignitary,  who  was  a  whole  head  taller  than  the 
architect,  did  not  find  it  quite  so  easy  to  bend  under  the  ropes. 
But  he  maintained-  his  good  humor,  carefully  avoided  the  wet 
clothing,  and  cried  to  Pontius: 

''■  I  begin  to  respect  the  childish  garments.  Under  them 
one  can  pass  without  breaking  his  spine.  Ah,  this  is  charm- 
ing!" 

The  front  of  the  gate-keeper's  house  was  overgrown  with  ivy, 
even  to  door  and  windows.  Among  the  leaves  hung  cages 
containing  starhngs,  thrushes,  and  other  singing  birds.  The 
door  stood  wide  open,  giving  sight  of  a  roomy,  gayly  painted 
apartment.  In  the  background  one  might  see  the  clay  model 
of  an  Apollo,  of  excellent  workmanship.  On  the  walls,  near 
to  it,  hung  lutes  and  lyres  of  varied  form  and  size. 

A  large  bird-cage  containing  nests  full  of  young  goldfinches 
stood  on  a  table  near  the  door.  Here,  also,  was  a  wine-tankard 
and  cups  of  carved  ivory.  The  arm  of  an  elderly  woman,  who 
had  fallen  asleep  hi  her  chair,  rested  on  the  marble  surface. 
In  spite  of  an  upper  lip  bearded  with  gray  hair,  her  face  was 
kindly  and  agreeable,  and  its  expression  suggested  pleasant 
dreams.  A  gray  cat  was  sleeping  in  her  lap,  and  close  beside 
it,  as  if  to  prove  that  harmony  reigned  in  this  apartment,  lay 
a  little  shaggy  dog,  whose  fleecy  white  hair  showed  the  best  of 
care.  Two  others  of  the  same  sort  lay  stretched  on  the  stone 
floor. 

The  architect  pointed  to  this  picture  of  still  life  as  soon  as 
the  prefect  reached  him,  whispering:  "  A  rare  scene  for  an 
artist!" 

"  Inimitable,"  replied  Titianus,  "  only  it  is  natural  to  asso- 


33  THE   EMPEKOIl. 

ciate  the  deep  carnation  of  the  old  woman^s  face  with  her  close 
proximity  to  the  wine-tankard/' 

"  But  did  you  ever  see  a  kinder,  more  serene  countenance?" 

"  So  might  Baucis  have  slept  during  the  absence  of  Pliile- 
mou,  or  was  this  dependent  husband  always  at  home?" 

"  Probably.     But  now  the  peace  is  broken,'" 

The  approach  of  the  strangers  had  wakened  one  of  the  dogs, 
wliose  barking  roused  the  others  to  competitive  effort. 

The  pet  of  the  mistress  sprung  from  her  lap,  but  the  old 
woman  and  the  cat  slejat  on,  undisturbed. 

"  She  ought  to  be  a  good  watcher,"  laughed  the  architect. 

"  And  this  phalanx  of  dogs,  which  guard  the  palace  of  an 
emperor,''  added  Titianus,  "  might  easily  be  killed  at  a  blow. 
But  take  care.     The  worthy  matron  is  weakening. " 

She  had  been,  in  fact,  jsartially  roused  by  the  barking  of  the 
dogs,  had  raised  her  head,  and  began  a  sentence,  half  singing, 
half  sj^eaking,  but  sunk  bade  again  into  her  easy-chair. 

"  That  is  charming,"  exclaimed  the  prefect.  "  If  she  cries 
out  '  always  cheery  '  from  her  sleep,  what  must  she  be  when 
awake!" 

"  I  should  be  sorry  to  drive  this  old  woman  out  of  her  nest," 
said  the  architect,  opening  his  roll. 

*'  Do  not  touch  this  little  house,"  exclaimed  Titianus,  with 
zeal.  "  I  know  Hadrian.  He  is  fond  of  peculiar  things  and 
pcojile,  and  I'll  Avager  will  like  this  old  woman.  There  comes 
at  last  the  overseer  of  this  palace." 

As  he  approached  one  could  hear  him  striking  down  to  the 
ground  the  clothes-lines,  with  their  wet  contents,  before  Tit- 
ianus could  hinder  the  action.  After  the  curtain  had  fallen  ho 
bowed  as  low  before  this  representative  of  the  emperor  and 
his  comjDanion  as  the  excessive  size  of  his  body  i^ermitted;  but 
surjirise  and  embarrassment  made  all  expression  difficult. 
Titianus  left  him  a  little  time  to  recover;  then  after  expressing 
regret  for  the  fate  of  the  wash,  he  introduced  Pontius,  and 
made  known  to  him  the  wish  of  the  emperor  to  dwell  in  this 
palace.  Also,  tliat  knowing  it  to  be  greatly  in  need  of  repair, 
lie  had  come  with  his  friend,  the  architect,  to  confer  with  him 
as  to  what  might  be  done  in  the  few  days  before  the  emperor's 
arrival  to  make  the  building  habitable,  and  finally  requested 
him  to  conduct  them  through  the  apartments. 

"  Immediately— instantly,"  replied  the  Greek,  whose  many 
years  of  inaction  had  made  him  immensely  corpulent;  "  I  will 
run  and  fett;li  the  keys. " 

As  he  witlidrew,  bowing,  he  hastily  curled  over  his  finger  the 
right  side  of  his  locks.     Pontius,  noticing  this,  said; 


THE   EMPEROR.  46 

''  Call  him  back,  Titianus,  he  was  summoned  while  curling 
his  hair.  I  wager  my  head  he  will  curl  the  other  side  before 
lie  returns.     I  know  my  Greeks!" 

"  Let  him  alone/'  answered  Titianus.  "  How  can  you  ex- 
pect him  to  answer  questions  correctly  if  his  hair  be  only  half 
arranged?     I  know  the  Greeks  also — " 

"  Better  than  I  do,  that  is  plain/'  said  the  architect,  in  a 
tone  of  conviction.  "  A  statesman  works  with  men  as  I  with 
my  lifeless  materials.  Did  you  notice  how  that  fat  fellow  grew 
pale  when  you  spoke  of  the  emperor's  intention  to  come  here 
in  a  few  days?  This  old  building  must  be  fine!  Every  horn- 
now  is  valuable,  and  we  have  already  delayed  too  long." 

The  prefect  motioned  the  architect  forward,  and  followed 
him  into  the  interior  of  the  palace. 

How  vast,  how  harmonious  the  pleasure-grounds  of  this  im- 
mense structui-e,  through  which  the  no  longer  half-curled  over- 
seer Keraunus  led  the  Romans !  The  palace  stood  upon  an 
artificial  elevation  in  the  midst  of  the  tongue  of  land  called 
Lochias;  and  from  its  many  windows  and  balconies  overlooked 
the  streets  and  squares,  the  houses,  palaces,  and  open  struct- 
ures of  this  great  cosmopolitan  city,  and  its  harbor,  crowded 
with  vessels.  Eich,  varied  and  brilhant  was  the  outlook  to- 
ward the  west  and  south;  from  the  balconies  on  the  east  and 
north  one  could  see  only  the  vaulted  sky  and  the  boundless 
sea. 

When  Hadrian  had  sent  a  messenger  to  Titianus  from  Mount 
Casius  directing  him  to  sujjerintend  the  preparations  for  his 
reception  in  this  neglected  palace — unoccupied  since  the  fall  of 
Cleopatra — he  knew  very  well  what  its  location  offered.  Eight 
or  nine  days  was  the  utmost  time  allowed— scarcely  more  than 
a  week — and  the  perspiration  ran  down  the  cheeks  of  both 
Titianus  and  Pontius  as  they  reckoned  uj)  all  that  was  neces- 
sary to  do  in  restoring  this  neglected  and  despoiled  building  to 
splendor. 

The  columns  and  staircases  of  the  interior  were  in  tolerable 
condition,  but  the  rain  had  fallen  into  the  uncovered  feast  and 
council  halls,  and  the  lordly  mosaic  pavement  was  warped 
asunder  in  some  places;  in  others  weeds  were  growing.  The 
finest  of  these  had  been  carried  away  by  Octavius  Augustus, 
Tiberius,  Vesioasian,  Titus,  and  a  long  row  of  prefects,  to 
Rome,  or  into  the  provinces,  to  ornament  their  city  houses  or 
their  country  villas. 

The  handsomest  statues,  with  which  the  art-loving  Lagides 
had  adorned  this  and  a  larger  palace  on  the  Bruchiom,  a  few 
hundred  years  before,  were  also  missing. 


24  THE   EMPEROTl. 

In  the  midst  of  one  broad  marble  hall  was  a  fountain  con- 
nected with  the  admirable  city  aqueduct.  The  wind,  in  stormy 
days,  had  driven  the  water  over  the  mutilated  floor,  and  now 
wherever  the  foot  was  j^laced  it  came  in  contact  witli  a  thin, 
dark-,s:rccn  and  slijipcry  coating  of  mold. 

In  this  hall  Keraunus  leaned, gasping,  against  the  wall,  wiping 
the  pers])iration  from  his  forehead,  struggling  with  the  words: 
"  Here  we  are  at  the  end!" 

These  words  sounded  more  as  if  he  were  thinking  of  liis  own 
end  than  that  of  the  jialace,  and  there  was  a  certain  contempt 
in  the  tone  with  which  the  architect  rejjlied: 

"  Very  well;  then  we  will  begin  our  explorations  anew  from 
this  jjoint. " 

Keraunus  did  not  object,  but  as  he  thought  of  the  repeated 
flights  of  stairs  to  be  climbed,  looked  as  one  might  who  had 
received  sentence  of  death. 

"  Is  it  necessary  that  I  remain  with  you  during  the  work?" 
asked  the  prefect. 

"  No,"  answered  the  architect,  "  provided  3'ou  give  me  full 
authority  over  the  men,  and  the  means,  after  examining  my 
plan." 

"  Agreed,"  said  Titian  us.  "  I  am  sure  Pontius  will  employ 
no  more  of  either  than  the  case  demands. "  The  architect 
bowed  silently,  but  Titianus  went  on: 

"  Above  all  things,  can  you  accomi^lish  the  work  in  eight 
days  and  nights?" 

"  That  which  is  absolutely  necessar}^,  perhaps;  but  we  ought 
to  have  four  days  more  for  the  finishing  touches. " 

''  It  would  be  well  to  delay  Hadrian's  coming  four  times 
twenty-four  hours." 

"  Send  people  to  meet  him  at  Pelusium  who  know  how  to 
persuade;  such,  for  instance,  as  the  astronomer  Ptolemseus, 
and  Favorinus,  the  sophist,  who  are  here  waiting  for  him. 
They  will  detain  him." 

"  That  is  not  a  bad  idea — we  will  see.  But  who  can  calcu- 
late the  mood  of  the  empress?  In  any  case,  do  not  expect 
more  than  eight  days." 

"  Good." 

"  Where  do  you  projiose  to  arrange  Hadrian's  quarters?" 

"  There  is  really  but  a  small  part  of  the  old  building  that 
can  bo  made  habitable." 

"Unfortunately,  I  see  that  for  myself,"  said  the  prefect, 
with  emphasis;  then  turning  to  the  overseer,  not  sharply,  but 
in  a  tone  of  regret,  said:  "  It  seems  to  me,  Keraunus,  that  it 


THE   EMPEROR.  25 

was  your  duty  to  let  me  know  earlier  the  coudition  of  this 
Ijalace." 

"  I  presented  my  complaint,"  returned  the  overseer,  "but 
only  received  for  answer  that  there  were  no  means  for  its 
restoration/' 

"  I  knew  nothing  of  this/'  said  Titianus.  "  When  did  you 
send  to  the  prefecture?" 

"  Under  the  rule  of  Haterius  Nepos,  your  predecessor.'' 

"  So  " — answered  the  prefect,  relaxing.  "  That  was  long 
ago.  If  in  your  place,  I  should  have  presented  my  petition 
again  with  the  coming  in  of  a  new  prefect.  But  we  have  not 
time  now  to  talk  of  this.  During  the  presence  of  the  emperor, 
perhajDS,  I  will  send  an  officer  to  your  assistance." 

Turning  his  back  upon  the  overseer,  he  asked: 

"  Now,  my  Pontius,  what  part  of  the  palace  do  you  propose 
to  put  in  order?" 

"  The  inner  rooms  are  in  best  condition." 

"  But  those  are  not  to  be  thought  of.  The  emjjeror  is  easily 
satisfied  in  camp;  but  where  it  is  possible  to  gain  space  and  a 
free  look  into  the  distance,  he  must  have  them." 

"  Then  we  will  choose  the  western  suite.  Hold  the  diagram, 
my  stately  friend." 

The  overseer  did  as  he  was  requested;  the  architect  seized 
his  joencil,  and,  making  a  vigorous  flourish  over  the  left  side  of 
the  draught,  said: 

"  This  is  the  west  front  of  the  palace,  which  one  sees  from 
the  harbor.  From  the  south  one  comes  directly  into  the  lofty 
jDcristyle,  which  is  the  joroper  place  for  the  sentinels.  It  is 
suiTOuncled  by  rooms  for  the  slaves  and  body-guard.  The 
smaller  halls  near  the  main  entrance  are  for  the  officers  and 
scribes.  In  the  spacious  hypasthral  hall — that  of  the  muses — 
Hadrian  can  hold  audience,  and  assemble  the  guests  he  invites 
to  his  table.  The  small,  well-preserved  rooms  on  the  right  of 
the  long  passage  leading  to  the  overseer's  dwelling,  will  be 
devoted  to  pages,  secretaries,  and  other  personal  attendants  of 
the  Caesar;  the  large  hall,  wainscoted  with  porphyry  and  green 
marble,  with  the  handsome  bronze  frieze,  I  think  Hadrian  will 
choose  for  work  and  rest. " 

"  Excellent!"  said  Titianus;  "  I  must  show  yom-  plan  to  the 
empress. " 

"In  that  case,  I  need,  eight  weeks  instead  of  days,"  an- 
swered Pontius. 

"  You  arc  right,"  said  the  prefect,  laugliing.  ''  But  tell 
me,  Keraunus,  where  are  the  doors  belonging  to  these  best 


26  THE  EMPETIOH. 

"  They  were  built  of  costly  tliyinc-wood — and  were  wanted 
in  Eonio. " 

"  I  think  I  have  seen  one  or  two  of  them  there/'  murmured 
the  prefect.   "  Your  joiners  must  bestir  themselves,  Pontius.'^ 

''  Say,  rather,  the  tapestry  merchants  can  rejoice.  Where 
there  is  a  draught  Ave  must  hang  heavy  curtains." 

"  What  shall  we  do  about  the  frogs,  who,  if  I  am  not  mis- 
taken, will  throng  in  this  damjo  dining-room?" 

"  Arrange  a  garden  with  growing  plants." 

"  That  will  do.     But  the  broken  statues?" 

"  The  worst  must  be  taken  away." 

"  Are  not  Apollo  and  the  nine  muses  in  the  room  designed 
for  an  audience-hall?" 

"Yes." 

"  I  think  they  are  in  a  state  of  tolerable  preservation." 

"So,  so." 

"  The  Urania  is  missing,"  remarked  the  overseer,  still  hold- 
ing the  diagram. 

"  What  has  become  of  it?"  asked  Titianus,  not  without  irri- 
tation. 

"  Your  predecessor,  Haterius  Nepos,  liked  it  especially,  and 
took  it  to  Eome." 

"  W^hy  must  it  have  been  the  Urania?"  cried  Titanus,  in  a 
vexed  tone.  "  That  must  not  be  wanting  in  the  audience- 
room  of  this  astronomical  emperor.     What  shall  we  do  now?" 

"  It  would  be  difficult  to  find  another  of  exactly  that  size, 
and  we  have  no  time  to  search.  Another  must  be  placed 
there." 

"  In  eight  days?" 

"  And  the  same  number  of  nights." 

"  But  I  beg  you  to  consider.     Before  the  marble — " 

"  Who  would  think  of  marble?  Papias  will  make  us  one 
out  of  straw,  and  canvas,  and  gy]')sum.  I  know  his  magic; 
and  that  the  others  need  not  ai)i)i,':ir  so  different  from  this  new- 
born sister,  they  must  all  be  white-washed. '  * 

"  Excellent;  but  why  choose  Papias,  when  we  have  a  Har- 
modius?" 

"  Harmodius  is  too  serious  an  artist,  and  before  he  had  even 
finished  his  designs  the  emperor  would  be  here.  Papias  has 
thirty  assistants,  and  docs  Avhatever  is  ordered,  if  it  only  bring 
him  the  gold.  His  last  work,  especially  the  Hygcia,  for  the 
Jew  iJositheos,  and  his  bust  of  Plutarch  for  the  Ca^sareum, 
surprised  me,  they  were  so  graceful  and  vigorous.  No  one  can 
tell  whether  the  work  is  his  own  or  that  of  his  assistants.  But 
that  is  no  matter,  he  knows  how  it  is  done,  and  if  well  jiaid, 


THE   EMPEKOR.  37 

could  fm-nisli  a  whole  mariue  battle  in  marble  within  five 
days.-" 

**  Then  give  Papias  the  commission.  But  the  pooi^  muti- 
lated pavement — what  can  they  do  with  that?'^ 

"  Gypsum  and  lydint  must  heal  those  wounds,"  answered 
Pontius.  AVhere  that  will  not  answer  we  must  sjaread  a  carpet, 
after  the  fashion  of  the  Orient.  But  how  dark  it  is  here!  Give 
me  the  diagram,  Keraunus,  and  j^rovide  lamps  and  torches, 
for  the  coming  eight  days  will  have  each  twenty-four  full 
hours.  I  beg  you  also,  Titianus,  for  half  a  dozen  reliable 
slaves  to  serve  as  messengers.  But  why  do  you  stand  there, 
man?  I  called  for  light.  You  have  had  half  a  life-time  in 
which  to  rest,  and  you  can  devote  as  many  years  again  to  the 
same  purpose,  after  the  departure  of  the  emperor.  " 

AVith  these  words  the  overseer  slowly  withdrew,  but  the 
Pontius  called  after  him: 

"  If  you  do  not  get  lost  in  your  own  obesity.  Is  it  blood  or 
Nile  mud  that  flows  in  the  veins  of  that  monster?" 

"'  I  care  little,"  answered  the  prefect,  "'if  that  restless  fire 
glow  in  yours  to  the  end  of  the  work.  Be  careful  of  doing  too 
much  in  the  beginning,  and  do  not  attempt  impossible  things, 
for  Eome  and  the  jvorld  expect  still  greater  things  from  you. 
I  shall  write  now  to  the  emperor,  quite  satisfied  that  all  will  be 
ready  for  him,  upon  the  Lochias.  And  in  takmg  leave,  I  say, 
faint-heartedness  were  folly  when  Pontius  is  at  hand. " 


CHAPTER  III. 

The  prefect  commanded  one  of  the  lictors  in  waiting  near 
his  chariot  to  hasten  to  his  own  house  and  conduct  to  the 
architect  certain  trusty  slaves  whom  he  specified,  also  to  bring 
food  and  wine  for  his  nourishment.  Then  he  ascended  the 
chariot  and  drove  through  the  Bruchiom,  along  the  sea  front, 
to  the  magnificent  building  known  as  the  Cffisareum.  His 
progress  was  slow,  for  the  further  he  went  the  denser  became 
the  crowd.  Upon  the  high  towers  of  the  gates  of  the  Csesa- 
reum,  opening  toward  the  sea,  were  pans  of  burning  pitch, 
Avhich  threw  a  clear  light  far  over  the  water.  To  the  left  and 
right  of  these  gates  rose  two  stately  obelisks,  upon  the  tojjs  and 
sides  of  which  lamps  had  also  been  hung.  "  In  honor  of 
Sabina,"  thought  the  prefect.  "Whatever  Pontius  under- 
takes is  thoroughly  done,  and  there  could  be  no  more  super- 
fluous work  than  to  oversee  his  arrangements." 

Occupied  with  such  thoughts,  he  approached  the  illuminated 
gate  which  led  into  the  Temple  of  Julius  Ca,'sar,  founded  by 


28  THE   EMPEROR. 

Octavius,  and  ordered  the  charioteer  to  halt  at  the  Egyptian 

{wrtal  leading  to  the  imperial  i^ala-ce.  This  palace  had  been 
)uilt  for  Tiberius  by  the  Alexandrians,  and  during  later  reigns 
had  been  much  enlarged  and  ornamented.  A  sacred  hedge 
separated  it  from  the  Temple  of  Cttsar,  with  which  it  was  con- 
nected by  a  colonnade.  Many  chariots  stood  before  the  en- 
trance, and  a  host  of  black  and  white  slaves  waited  near  the 
litters  of  their  masters.  Lictors  pressed  back  the  eager  crowd 
of  sightseers.  Officers  leaned  against  the  jDillars,  and  the 
Eoman  guard  gathered  close  behind,  with  much  rattling  of 
weapons  and  clang  of  trumpets,  waiting  release  at  the  end  of 
their  watch.  All  drew  back  resi^ectfully  from  the  chariot  of 
the  prefect,  and  as  he  walked  through  the  lighted  colonnade  to 
the  Cffisareum,  glancing  at  the  countless  masterpieces  of  sculj)t- 
iire  and  mural  painting,  and  passed  the  librar}^,  he  recalled 
the  months  of  labor  and  anxiety  spent  with  the  assistance  of 
Pontius  in  ^^reparing  this  palace,  unused  since  the  departure  of 
Titus  for  Judca,  for  the  residence  of  Hadrian. 

The  empress  was  now  occupying  the  apartments  designed 
for  him  and  adorned  with  the  choicest  artistic  collections,  and 
Titianus  said  to  himself  with  regret  that  Sabina  would  allow 
their  removal  most  unwillingly  to  the  j)alace  u23on  the  Lochias. 
Before  reaching  the  sjDlendid  hall,  designed  as  an  audience- 
room  for  the  emjjeror,  he  met  the  chamberlain  of  Sabina,  who 
conducted  him  at  once  to  liis  mistress. 

This  hall  was  uncovered  in  the  summer,  but  now,  during 
the  rainy  season,  and  because  Sabina  always  complained  of  the 
cold,  even  in  the  warmer  parts  of  the  year,  w^as  jDrotected  by  a 
coi^per  roof  shaped  like  an  umbrella.  As  Titianus  entered,  he 
l^erceived  an  atmosphere  of  agreeable  warmth  and  fragrance. 
The  warmth  came  from  stoves  of  most  peculiar  construction 
Avhich  had  been  placed  in  the  middle  of  the  apartment.  One 
of  these  rei^resented  the  forge  of  Vulcan — glowing  coals  were 
laid  before  the  bellows,  which  moved  automatically.  The  god 
and  his  companions  surrounded  the  fire,  holding  tongs  and 
hammers. 

:  The  other  stove  was  a  great  silver  bird's  nest,  in  which  char- 
coal was  also  burning.  Over  the  flame  was  suspended  a  bronze 
bird,  much  like  an  eagle,  which  represented  the  soaring  i^ho- 
nix.  Besides  these,  countless  lamps  of  artistic  design  were 
burning,  and  the  ajoartment  contained  lounges  and  tables, 
vases  and  statues,  but  the  space  was  altogether  disjjrojiortioned 
to  the  number  of  persons  assembled.  Tlie  prefect  and  Pontius 
had  arranged  a  room  of  smaller  dimensions  for  the  ordinary 
receptions,  but  tlie  empress  had  givcji   this   the  ])reference. 


THE   EMPEROE.  29 

Tliis  liigli-born  and  dignified  statesman  felt  disijleased  and 
chagrinerl  when  he  saw  the  Httle  scattered  grouj^s  and  heard 
the  repressed  sentences  and  the  unintelhgible  murmur  of 
■voices.,  but  not  one  hearty  and  natural  outburst.  Loud  talk- 
ing hurt  the  empress^,  a  clear  tone  was  her  abhorrence;  and  yet 
few  men  possessed  a  more  vigorous  voice  than  her  husband,  or 
were  less  accustomed  to  constraint. 

Sabina  was  in  a  reclining  posture.  Her  feet  were  buried  in 
the  woolly  skin  of  a  meadow-ox,  and  her  limbs  protected  by  a 
do^^i  coverlet. 

Her  head  was  stiffly  erect.  It  was  difficult  to  conceive  how 
such  a  thin  neck  could  support  the  lofty  fabric  of  reddish 
blonde  hair,  with  its  strings  of  jjearl  and  chains  of  precious 
stone.  Her  meager  face  appeared  still  more  meager  under 
this  mass  of  natural  and  artificial  ornament,  covering  crown 
and  forehead. 

Even  in  youth  she  could  not  have  been  beautiful;  but  the 
features  were  regular,  and  the  prefect  said  to  himself  as  he 
looked  at  the  finely  wrinkled,  but  red  and  white-j)ainted  face, 
that  the  artist  who  had  received  the  commission  a  few  years 
before  to  sketch  her  as  Venus  Victrix  had  opportunity  to  pre- 
serve a  certain  likeness  to  the  original. 

Titianus  seized,  wliile  bowing  profoundly,  the  ring-encum- 
laered  right  hand  which  she  extended  to  him,  but  drew  back 
quickly  and  thrust  beneath  her  drapery,  as  if  she  feared  this 
carefully  nursed  plaything — this  mere  toy — might  suffer  harm. 
She  had  returned  the  greeting  of  the  prefect  with  all  the 
warmth  at  her  command,  for  in  former  times  he  had  been  a 
daily  visitor  at  her  house  in  Eome,  and  she  was  now  meeting 
him  for  the  first  time  in  Alexandria.  For  yesterday,  exhaust- 
ed by  the  voyage,  she  had  been  brought  from  the  ship  in  a 
closed  litter  to  the  Csesareum,  and  this  morning,  busy  with 
physicians,  bathing-women,  and  hair-dressers,  had  declined  re- 
ceiving his  visit. 

"  How  do  you  endure  this  country  ?^^  she  asked,  in  faint, 
exhausted  voice,  as  if  conversation  were  a  burdensome  and 
quite  fruitless  occupation.  "  At  noon  the  sun  scorches,  but  in 
the  evening  it  is  intolerably  cold.  "• 

And  she  drew  the  drapery  closer  about  her  person,  but 
Titianus,  pointing  to  the  stoves,  said: 

"  I  thought  we  had  broken  the  never-mighty  sinews  of  the 
Egyptian  winter's  bow. ' ' 

"  Still  young  and  imaginative,  still  the  poet,''  answered  the 
empress,  wearily.     "  I  met  your  wife  two  hours  ago.     Africa 


so  THE  EMPEnon. 

docs  not  seem  to  agree  with  her.     I  was  shocked  to  sec  the 
handsome  matron  Julia  so  changed.     She  docs  not  look  well.  '^ 

"  Years  are  the  enemies  of  beauty.'' 

"  Certainly;  but  genuine  beauty  sometimes  resists  their 
power." 

"  You  are  the  living  proof  of  your  own  assertion." 

"  That  means  I  have  grown  old." 

"  No,  but  that  you  understand  how  to  preserve  beauty." 

"  Romancer/'  murmured  the  empress,  and  her  thin  under 
lip  contracted. 

''The  muses  do  not  show  favor  to  business  of  state." 

"  But  he  who  sees  things  fairer  than  they  really  are,  or  gives 
them  more  striking  names  than  they  deserve,  I  call  him  a  poet, 
a  fanatic,  a  flatterer,  as  best  befits." 

Modesty  always  finds  fitting  words  to  turn  off  well-deserved 
admiration." 

"What  means  this  foohsh  skirmish  with  words,"  sighed 
Sabina,  sinking  back  into  her  chair;  "  you  have  been  learning 
that  here,  in  the  Museum;  I  have  not.  Yonder  sits  Favorinus, 
the  sophist.  He  is,  perhaps,  proving  to  the  astronomer  Ptole- 
masus  that  the  stars  we  think  in  the  heavens  are  oulv  flecks  of 
blood  upon  the  eyeball.  Florus,  the  historian,  is  discussing 
the  lofty  theme;  the  poet  Pancrates  versifies  the  great  thoughts 
of  the  philosophers,  and  what  weighty  subject  absorbs  the 
grammarian  of  the  party  you  probably  know  better  than  I. 
What  is  his  name?" 

"  Apollonius." 

"  Hadrian  calls  him  the  mystic.  The  harder  it  is  to  under- 
stand his  words,  the  higher  he  ranks." 

"  One  must  dive  for  that  which  lies  in  the  depths:  what 
floats  on  the  surface  every  wave  carries  forward,  and  the  chil- 
dren use  it  for  a  plaything.     Apollonius  is  very  learned. " 

"Then  my  husband  should  leave  him  with  his  books  and  his 
pupils.  He  wished  me  to  invite  these  people  as  guests.  I 
like  Florus  and  Pancrates  well  enough — but  the  others  I" 

"  I  can  show  you  how  to  be  rid  of  Favorinus  and  Ptolema?us; 
send  them  to  the  emperor. " 

"  For  what  purpose?" 

"  To  entertain  him." 

"  He  has  his  i3laythings  already,"  said  Sabina,  her  lip  ex- 
pressing bitter  scorn. 

"  His  artistic  eye  rejoices  in  the  wonderful  beauty  of  An- 
tinous,  whom  I  have  not  yet  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing." 

"  You  are  eager  to  behold  this  wonder?" 

"Twill  not  deny  it." 


THE   EMPEROR.  31 

"  And  yet  you  are  seeking  to  put  off  the  meeting  Avith  the 
emperor/'  asked  Sabina,  while  a  searching,  distrustful  exjjres- 
sion  gleamed  in  her  small  eyes.  '*'  Why  do  you  wish  to  delay 
the  arrival  of  my  husband?'^ 

"  Do  I  need  to  say,"  answered  Titiauus,  "  how  much  I  long 
to  see  again,  after  four  years'  separation,  my  master,  and  the 
friend  of  my  youth,  the  best  and  wisest  of  men?  What  would 
I  give  were  he  already  here!  Nevertheless,  I  wish,  that  in- 
stead of  eight,  he  would  delay  fifteen  days." 

"  What  is  the  matter?" 

"  A  messenger  has  brought  to-day  a  letter  in  which  the  em- 
peror expresses  the  wish  to  reside,  not  here  in  the  Ca^sareum, 
but  in  the  old  palace  on  the  Lochias." 

At  sound  of  these  words,  the  brow  of  Sabina  contracted,  her 
eyes  fell,  and  drawing  the  under  lip  between  her  teeth,  she 


"  Because  /  am  here." 

Titianus  did  not  appear  to  notice  her  words,  and  went  on,  in 
a  light  tone : 

"  Yonder  there  is  a  wide  outlook,  which  from  youth  ujd  he 
has  loved  to  find.  But  the  old  structure  is  mutilated,  and 
though  I  have  already  begun  rejiairs,  with  the  help  of  our  effi- 
cient architect  Pontius,  which  will  make  a  part  of  it  habitable, 
still  the  time  is  too  short  to  arrange  things  properly." 

"  I  wish  to,  see  my  husband  here,  the  sooner  the  better," 
broke  in  the  empress,  emphatically.  Then  she  turned  toward 
the  right  side  of  the  hall,  and  called:  "  Verus!"  But  her 
voice  was  so  weak  it  was  not  possible  for  him  to  hear,  and 
turning  to  the  prefect,  she  asked:  "I  pray  you,  call  to  me 
Verus,  the  Pretor  Lucius  Aurelius  Verus. " 

Titianus  instantly  obeyed  her  request.  He  had  already 
exchanged  a  friendly  salute  with  this  man  on  entering,  but 
had  received  no  further  notice.  Titianus  found  Verus  the  cen- 
ter of  a  group  of  men  and  women,  who  were  all  listening  to 
him.  That  which  he  was  saying  must  have  been  very  amus- 
ing, for  one  could  see  that  all  his  auditors  were  shaking  with 
laughter,  yet  dared  not  utter  a  sound  which  was  so  annoying 
to  the  empress.  As  the  prefect  reached  the  group,  a  young 
woman  whose  handsome  head  was  crowned  by  a  very  moimtain 
of  little  curls,  touched  Verus  on  the  arm,  saying: 

"  That  is  too  much.  If  you  go  on  after  that  fashion  I  shall 
close  my  ears,  as  surely  as  my  name  is  Balbilla. " 

"  And  a  descendant  of  King  Antiochus,"  added  Verus,  with 
a  profound  bow. 


33  THE   EilPEIlOIl. 

"Always  the  same,"  laughed  the  prefect,  nodding  to  the 
story-teller.     "  Sabiiia  wishes  to  speak  with  you/' 

''  Instantly/'  answered  Verus.  "  My  story  is  true,  and  you 
should  all  be  thankful  for  it,  since  it  has  delivered  us  from  the 
tedious  gramniariau,  who  is  fastened  upon  my  worthy  fi-iend, 
Favorinus,  yonder.  Your  Alexandria  i)leases  me,  Titiaiuis, 
but  it  is  not  a  great  city  like  Kome.  The  peo2)le  have  not  yet 
forgotten  how  to  wonder.  They  stand  in  astonishment.  As  I 
have  been  out  driving — " 

"  Your  footmen  should  go  before  you  with  roses  in  their 
liair  and  wings  on  then-  shoulders,  heralding  you  as  the  God 
of  Love." 

"  In  honor  of  the  Alexandrian  ladies." 

"  As  of  the  Eoman  ladies  in  Eome,  and  the  Attic  women  in 
Athens,"  interrupted  Balbilla. 

"  The  footmen  of  the  pretor  are  swifter  than  Parthian 
steeds,"  cried  the  chamberlain  of  the  empress.  "He  calls 
them  the  winds." 

"Which  they  deserve,"  added  Verus.  "  Come  now,  Tit- 
ian us." 

He  laid  his  arm  confidentially  in  that  of  the  prefect,  who 
was  a  kinsman,  and  wliispered  in  his  ear,  as  they  approached 
the  emi^ress: 

"  In  the  interest  of  the  emperor  I  let  them  remain." 

The  sophist,  Favorinus,  who,  on  the  other  side  of  the  room, 
was  conversing  with  Ptoleniii^us,  the  astronomer,  Apollonius, 
the  grammarian,  and  Pancrates,  the  jioet,  looked  after  the  two 
men,  exclaiming: 

"  A  handsome  pair!  One  the  very  personification  of  sov- 
ereign, majestic  Eome,  the  other  with  the  figure  of  Mercury — " 

"  The  other,"  broke  in  the  grammarian,  "  is  the  image  of 
haughtiness,  and  carries  extravagance  and  luxury  to  madness, 
and  to  the  shameful  ruin  of  the  city.  This  foolish  A\'om.an- 
hero— " 

"  I  do  notAvish  to  judge  his  conduct,"  interrupted  Favorinus 
with  a  loud  voice,  and  a  fine  accentuation  of  the  Greek  'which 
charmed  the  ear  of  the  grammarian.  "'  His  actions  are  dis- 
graceful, but  you  must  allow  that  he  bears  the  charm  of  true 
Hellenic  beauty,  that  the  Charities  kissed  him  at  his  birth,  and 
that,  though  he  may  be  condemned  by  the  strictest  laws  of 
virtue,  his  beauty  deserved  laudation." 

"  For  the  artist  who  needs  a  model  he  would  be  a  toothsome 
morsel. " 

•     "  The  Athenian  judges  made  Phryue  free  because  she  was 
beautiful." 


THE   EMPEROR.  33 

"  In  that  they  did  wrong," 

"  Not  in  the  estimation  of  the  gods,  whose  most  perfect 
works  deserve  respect. " 

"'  One  may  find  j)oison  in  the  costhest  vessels." 

"  But  body  and  soul  correspond  to  a  certain  extent.^' 

"  Would  you  venture  to  call  the  handsome  Verus,  also,  the 
excellent?" 

"  No;  but  the  dissolute  Lucius  Aurelius  Verus  is  also  the 
most  cheerful  and  gracious  of  all  the  Romans,  and  far  from 
any  malice,  though  unrestrained  by  severe  virtue,  expects  to 
gain  whatever  he  desires,  and  at  the  same  time  succeeds  in 
making  every  one  pleased  Avith  him.'^ 

' '  He  might  have  saved  himself  the  effort  so  far  as  I  am  con- 
cerned." 

"  I  give  him  the  credit  he  deserves." 

This  conversation  was  carried-  on  in  a  louder  tone  than  was 
usual  in  presence  of  the  empress.  Sabina,  who  had  just'been 
telling  the  pretor  of  her  hnsband's  desire,  shrugged  her  shonl- 
ders  and  moved  her  lips  as  if  in  pain;  but  as  Verus  turned  his 
face  toward  the  speakers,  his  eyes  met  the  hostile  expression  ia 
those  of  x\i3ollonius.  Personal  dislike  was  intolerable  to  Verus, 
and  instead  of  answering  the  question  of  Sabina  as  to  his  opin- 
ion of  the  emperor's  residence  while  in  Alexandria,  he  said: 

''  This  logomachist  is  a  very  disagreeable  fellow,  and  has  an 
eye  that  threatens  us  all,  and  his  trumpet-toned  voice  is  as  un- 
pleasant to  you  as  to  me.  Must  we  have  him  at  the  table 
daily?" 

'•  Hadrian  wishes  it." 

"  Then  I  shall  return  to  Eome.  My  wife  has  been  wanting 
to  return  to  the  children  without  me,  and  as  pretor,  I  am  bet- 
ter off  beside  the  Tiber  than  the  Nile."' 

These  words  were  spoken  as  lightly  as  though  having  refer- 
ence simply  to  the  meal  of  the  present  evening,  but  they  seemed 
to  excite  the  emj)ress,  for  the  shook  her  head — which  had  been 
motionless  during  all  her  conversation  with  the  jDrefect — so  posi- 
tively that  the  pearls  and  gems  rattled  in  her  head-gear. 
Then  she  stared  for  a  few  seconds  into  her  lap.  While  Verus 
bowed  to  jDick  up  a  diamond  which  had  fallen  from  her  hair, 
she  said  quickly: 

"  You  are  right.  Apollonius  is  quite  unendurable.  We 
will  send  him  to  meet  the  emperor.^' 

'•'  Then  I  shall  sta}'^,"  said  Verus,  satisfied  as  a  pleased  child 
who  has  gained  his  jjoint. 

"  Whirlwind!"  ejaculated  Sabina,  and  threatened  liim  play- 
fully with  the  finger. 


34  THE   EMPEROR. 

**  8I10W  mc  the  gtone:  it  is  one  of  the  largest  and  i^urest. 
You  may  keeij  it/' 

When  Verus  left  the  hall  in  the  comimny  of  the  prefect,  an 
hour  later,  he  said: 

"  You  have  unconsciously  done  me  a  service,  cousin.  Can 
you  not  arrange  to  send  Ptolema^us  and  Favorinus  with  Apol- 
lonius  to  Pelusium?" 

"  Xothiug  could  be  easier, '^  Avas  the  answer. 

On  the  same  evening,  the  steward  of  the  prefect  brought 
M'ord  to  the  arcliitect  Pontius,  that  instead  of  eight  or  nine 
days,  he  might  count  upon  fourteen  for  his  work. 


CHAPTEK   IV. 

One  light  after  another  had  been  extinguished  in  the 
CaBsareum,  the  residence  of  the  empress;  but  in  the  palace  on 
the  Lochias  they  burned  brighter  and  brighter.  It  was  the 
custom,  on  all  festal  illuminations  of  the  harbor,  to  burn  joans 
of  pitch  on  the  roof,  and  light  long  rows  of  lamps,  arranged 
'with  arcliitectonical  skill;  but  since  one  could  remember,  no 
such  light  had  been  seen  in  the  interior.  The  harbor  watch- 
men looked  anxiously  toward  tbe  Lochias,  fearing  a  fire  had 
broken  out  in  the  old  palace.  But  they  were  soon  relieved 
by  a  lictor  of  the  jjrefect,  who  brought  an  order  to  allow  all  in 
the  employ  of  the  head  architect  Pontius  ingress  and  egress 
through  the  gates  on  this  and  every  following  night  until  the 
arrival  of  the  emperor.  And  not  a  single  quarter  hour  passed 
Hntil  long  after  midnight,  in  which  those  whom  Pontius  had 
summoned  or  sent  out  were  not  passing  through  the  gates, 
which,  though  not  closed,  were  well  guarded. 

Lights  were  also  burning  in  the  little  house  of  the  gate- 
keeper. The  birds  and  the  cat  belonging  to  the  old  M'oman 
whom  the  jarefect  and  his  companion  had  foiuid  fast  asleep  near 
the  wine-cup  were  again  asleeij,  but  the  little  dogs  i^lmigcd 
barking  into  the  court  with  every  new  arrival. 

"  But,  Aglaia,  what  will  they  think  of  j'ou?  Loveliest 
Thalia,  do  behave  yourself  like  a  good  little  beast  I  Come 
here,  Eujihrosyne,  and  be  reasonable!"  cried  the  old  woman, 
who,  now  fully  awake,  had  been  folding  her  clothes  fi-om  the 
wash,  and  stood  behind  her  table,  with  kindly  but  authoritative 
manner.  The  barking  dogs,  who  bore  the  names  of  the  Graces, 
gave  little  heed  to  the  friendly  call;  to  their  own  disadvantage, 
certainly,  for  each  of  them  had  more  than  once  occasion — 
when  they  met  the  foot  of  a  new-comer  into  the  court — to  i-un 
crying  and  ^vhiuillg  into  the  house,  and  nestle  up  to  their  mis- 


THE  EMrEKOR.  35 

tress  for  comfort.  She  took  them  up  every  time,  and  quieted 
them  with  caresses  and  coaxing  words. 

The  old  woman  was  no  longer  alone,  for  stretched  on  a 
lounge  behind  the  Apollo  lay  a  tall,  lank  man,  dressed  in  a  red 
chiton.  A  hanging  lamp  cast  a  feeble  light  upon  him  and  the 
lute  he  was  playing.  He  hummed  an  accompaniment,  repeat- 
ing the  same  strain,  two,  three,  four  times.  Sometimes  he 
sung  in  loud  and  not  unpleasant  voice  a  few  sentences,  with 
artistic  expression  and  execution.  Sometimes,  when  the  dogs 
barked  too  loudly,  he  would  spring  up  and  rush  into  the  court 
with  lute  in  one  hand  and  a  long  pliant  reed  in  the  other, 
screeching  the  names  of  the  dogs,  and  with  apparently  mur- 
derous designs;  but  skillfully  avoiding  their  bodies,  he  let  his 
blows  fall  on  the  pavement.  When  he  returned  to  his  resting- 
place,  the  old  woman  w^ould  cry,  pointing  to  the  lamp  which 
his  head  had  disturbed  in  the  mad  rush: 

"  Euphorion — the  oil!'" 

He  invariably  answered,  with  the  same  threatening  motion  of 
the  hand  and  a  rolling  of  the  eyeballs: 

"  Wretched  little  beasts!'" 

The  zealous  musician  might  have  been  devoted  perhaps  an 
hour  to  his  instrument,  when  the  dogs  again  rushed  into  the 
court,  not  barking,  but  with  expressions  of  delight.  The  old 
woman  laid  down  her  work  and  listened  attentively,  but  the 
lute-player  said: 

"  The  emperor  sends  as  many  birds  in  advance  as  gulls  be- 
fore a  storm;  if  they  would  only  leave  us  in  peace!" 

"  Take  care,  that  is  Pollux;  I  know  the  dogs,"'  exclaimed 
the  woman,  hastening  over  the  threshold. 

There  stood  the  expected  one,  lifting  each  of  the  four-footed 
Graces  by  the  hair  of  its  back,  and  giving  each  nose  a  tweak. 
When  he  saw  the  old  woman  he  seized  her  head  with  both 
hands,  and  kissed  her  forehead. 

"Good-evening,  little  mother."'  Then  he  waved  his  hand 
to  the  singer,  and  cried,  "  Be  saluted,  great  father!" 

"  Not  much  smaller  than  I  am,"  answered  the  man,  draw- 
ing the  youth  toward  himself,  and  laying  the  palm  of  his  hand, 
first  on  his  own  gray  hair,  and  then  on  the  brown  locks  of  his 
first-born. 

"  Made  after  the  same  pattern,"  cried  the  youth.  And  in 
truth  he  strongly  resembled  his  father;  but  it  was  as  a  noble 
steed  can  resemble  a  poor  horse,  as  marble  the  rough  limestone, 
or  a  fir-tree,  the  cedar.  Both  were  of  stately  figure,  had  dark 
eyes  and  thick  hair,  and  noses  of  similar  shape;  but  the  cheer- 
fulness which  irradiated  the  face  of  the  youth  he  had  not  in- 


36  THE  EMPEROR. 

herited  from  his  father,  but  from  the  little  woman  who  looked 
up  into  his  face  while  she  caressed  his  arm. 

But  whence  came  that  air  of  nobility,,  that  indescribable 
something  in  his  eyes,  and  the  noble  arch' of  his  forehcadj 

"  I  knev  yon  were  coming,"  said  his  mother.  "  I  dreamed 
it  this  af tc  i-noon,  and  M'ill  prove  that  you  did  not  take  me  by 
surprise.  Yoiider,  on  the  chafing-dish,  is  the  stewed  cabbage 
and  sausage  waiting  for  you.'^ 

"  I  can  not  stay  now;  truly  I  can  not,  in  spite  of  your  smil- 
ing face  and  favorite  dish.  My  master  Papias  has  gone  on- 
ward, and  wonders  are  to  be  accomjDlishcd  in  the  palace  within 
a  very  short  time. " 

"  Then  I  will  take  the  cabbage  to  5'ou  into  the  castle/'  said 
Doris,  holding  a  sausage  to  the  mouth  of  her  son. 

Pollux  eat  vigorously,  and  said,  while  chewing: 

"Excellent!  I  wish  the  thing  I  have  to  shape  up  there 
would  as  surely  be  a  good  statue  as  this  soft  cylinder,  which 
has  just  disappeared,  made  a  good  sausage.'' 

"  Will  you  have  another?"  asked  Doris. 

*'  No,  mother;  and  you  need  not  briiig  anything  to  me  in 
the  palace;  a  moment  must  not  be  lost  until  after  midnight; 
and  even  if  I  can  stop  then,  you  will  have  been  long  dreaming 
all  sorts  of  things." 

"  I  will  bring  the  cabbage,"  said  his  father,  "  for  it  will  be 
long  before  I  can  go  to  rest.  The  hymn  to  Sabina,  which 
Mesomedes  has  written,  is  to  be  sung  by  the  choir  the  first 
time  she  visits  the  theater,  and  I  have  to  take  the  highest  part 
among  the  old  men.  The  rehearsal  comes  to-morrow,  and  I 
do  not  yet  know  it.  Every  note  of  the  old  tune  sticks  m  my 
throat,  but  the  new,  the  new — " 

"  That  will  come  later,"  laughed  Pollux. 

"  IC  you  coidd  only  put  your  father's  guitar-plajing  and 
his  '  Theseus  '  on  exhibition,"  cried  Doris. 

"  Wait  a  little,  and  I  will  recommend  him  to  the  emperor, 
when — as  the  Phidias  of  his  time — he  will  be  proud  to  call  me 
friend.  Then  he  will  ask:  'Who  brought  you  u])?'  and  I 
shall  say:  '  It  was  Euphorion,  the  godlike  poet  and  musician; 
my  mother  also  is  a  worthy  matron.  She  is  Doris,  who  keeps 
the  palace  gate  and  bleaches  the  linen.'  "  These  words  the 
young  artist  sung  in  a  fine,  vigorous  voice,  after  the  style  of 
his  father. 

"  If  you  had  only  been  a  singer!"  cried  Euphorion. 

"  Then  I  woidd  have  the  prospect  of  spending  the  evening 
of  my  days  in  this  little  house  as  your  successor. 


THE   EMPEROH.  37 

"  Now  you  are  planting,  for  a  petty  reward,  the  laurels  with 
which  Papias  adorns  himself/'  answered  the  old  man. 

"  But  his  hour  will  come,  and  he  will  be  recognized/'  broke 
in  Doris.  "  I  saw  him  in  my  dream,  with  a  great  wreath  over 
his  locks. " 

"  Patience,  father,  patience,"  said  the  youth,  seizing  his 
father's  hand.  "  I  am  young  and  vigorous,  and  whatever  I 
am  doing,  here,  behind  my  forehead,  swarm  the  good  ideas. 
What  I  have  ventured  to  bring  out  have  at  least  made  others 
famous;  and  although  all  is  yet  very  far  below  the  inward 
ideal,  yet  I  look  forward  to  a  time  when  I  shall  be  something 
more  than  the  pitiably  jDaid  right  hand  of  PajDias,  who,  up 
there  now  without  nie,  does  not  know  what  to  do." 

"  Only  be  always  cheerful  and  diligent,"  cried  Doris. 

"  That  will  help  little,  without  luck,"  murmured  Euphorion, 
shrugging  his  shoulders. 

The  young  sculptor  said  farewell  to  his  parents,  and  was 
hastening  away;  but  his  mother  detained  him  to  look  at  the 
tiny  goldfinch  which  had  burst  its  shell  only  the  day  before. 
Pollux  delayed  wilhngly,  not  alone  to  gratify  her,  but  because 
he  felt  pleasure  in  looking  at  the  pretty  bird  which  guarded 
and  warmed  its  young.  Near  the  cage  stood  the  wine-tankard 
and  the  cup  which  he  had  himself  adorned  for  his  mother. 
His  look  fell  on  these  vessels,  which  he  silently  moved  back 
and  forth.     At  last,  gathering  courage,  he  said,  laughingly: 

"  The  emperor  will  often  pass  here,  mother.  Give  up  the 
celebration  of  your  Dionysian  revel.  What  if  you  limit  your- 
self to  one  part  wine  and  three  parts  water?  It  is  very  palat- 
able thus." 

"  It  is  a  shame  to  neglect  the  good  gifts,"  answered  the  old 
woman. 

"  One  quarter  wine,  to  please  me,"  begged  Pollux,  seizing 
the  shoulders  of  his  mother  and  kissing  her  forehead. 

"  To  please  you,  great  boy?"  asked  Doris.  "  Yes,  to  please 
you,  I  will  drink  only  miserable  water!  Euphorion,  you  can 
have  the  rest  of  this  wine!" 


The  architect  Pontius  had  begun  his  active  labors, 
at  first  only  by  those  who  had  followed  him  on  foot.  Measur- 
ing, planning,  sending  out  orders,  making  estimates,  jotting 
down  his  calculations  on  wax  tablets.  Not  one  moment  was 
lost. 

He  was  often  interrupted  by  the  agents  of  factories,  whose 
activity  he  had  claimed.  They  came  at  a  very  late  hour, 
having  been  summoned  in  the  name  of  the  jDrefect,     Among 


38  THE  EMPEROR. 

the  latest  came  the  sculptor  Papias,  althongb  Pontius  had  writ- 
ten with  his  own  hand  that  he  had  a  remunerative  work  for 
him  in  the  interest  of  the  emperor,  which  needed  instant  atten- 
tion, and  might  perhaps  be  commenced  that  very  night. 

Tliis  was  a  statue  of  Urania,  to  be  finished  in  ten  days,  after 
the  style  of  one  he  had  prepared  at  the  late  feast  of  Adonis, 
but  of  a  size  that  he,  Pontius,  would  prescribe,  and  that  must 
be  done  on  the  Lochias.  Also,  there  were  other  restorations 
which  must  be  as  quickly  done,  and  the  price  was  to  be  agreed 
upon  between  them. 

The  sculptor  was  a  circumspect  man,  and  brought  with  him 
his  best  assistant,  Pollux,  the  son  of  the  gate-keeper,  and  many 
slaves,  who  transported  upon  wagons  and  carts  the  tools, 
boards,  clay,  gypsum,  and  other  materials.  Upon  their  way 
to  the  Lochias,  Papias  had  described  the  affair  to  Pollux,  and 
proposed,  in  a  condescending  tone,  that  he  should  have  oppor- 
tunity to  display  his  skill  ill  the  restoration  of  Urania.  At 
the  palace  gate  he  suggested  a  call  upon  his  i^arents,  while  he 
should  go  on  alone  to  make  the  arrangements  with  Pontius. 
The  apprentice  understood  his  master.  He  knew  that  he  would 
lay  upon  him  the  burden  of  the  work,  and  then,  after  a  few 
unimportant  changes,  claim  it  as  his  own.  The  same  experi- 
ence had  been  gone  through  more  than  once  within  the  last  two 
years,  and  he  accepted  it  to-day  without  opposition,  for  with 
his  master  there  was  no  other  way;  and  besides,  this  creative 
work  was  to  him  the  highest  of  all  enjoyment. 

Papias,  to  whom  he  had  gone  for  instruction,  and  to  whom 
he  owed  all  he  had  learned,  Avas  no  niggard;  and  Pollux  need- 
ed the  wages — not  only  for  himself,  but  to  sujoport  a  widowed 
sister  and  her  cliildren.  He  enjoyed,  too,  making  the  home 
comfortable  for  his  parents,  and  helping  his  brother  Teuker, 
who  was  learning  the  art  of  gem-cutting,  through  his  ap- 
prenticeship. Sometimes  he  thought  seriously  of  saying  to  his 
employer  that  he  would  stand  on  his  own  feet  and  earn  his 
own  laurels;  but  the  fear  of  what  might  become  of  those  de- 
pendent on  liim,  in  case  of  failure,  always  deterrred  him  from 
relinquishing  his  present  stipend. 

Of  what  use  his  ability  and  his  honest  purpose,  if  no  oppor- 
tunity should  offer  to  begin  with  costly  materials,  which  he 
could  not  procure  out  of  his  own  means? 

While  he  chatted  with  his  parents,  Papias  was  negotiating 
with  the  architect.  Pontius  pointed  out  what  must  he  done. 
Papias  listened  attentively,  stroking  u  beard  and  face  already 
as  smooth  as  a  wax  mask,  and  laying  the  folds  of  his  costly 


THE  EMPEKOR.  39 

toga — which  he  wore  after  the  style  of  a  Eoman  senator — in 
new  folds. 

When  Pontius  came  to  the  last— a  statue  which  needed  a 
new  arm — Papias  said,  decisively: 

"  It  can  not  be  done. " 

"  That  is  a  rash  conclusion/'  said  the  architect.  "  Do  you 
not  know  the  maxim,  uttered  by  more  than  one  shrewd  man, 
'  that  it  is  as  unwise  to  call  a  thing  impossible  as  to  boast  of 
being  able  to  accomplish  what  is  probably  beyond  our  skill?'  " 

Papias  laughed,  stared  at  his  gold  shoe  buckles,  and  said: 

"  It  is  more  difficult  for  sculptors,  who  always  handle  im- 
wieldy  masses,  to  enter  into  a  Titanic  conflict  with  the  impos- 
sible. I  do  not  yet  see  the  means  which  might  give  me  cour- 
age to  undertake  this  work." 

"  I  will  enumerate  them,"  said  Pontius,  quickly  and  firmly. 
"  On  your  side,  good  will,  many  assistants  and  vigils;  on  ours, 
the  approbation  of  the  emperor  and  plenty  of  gold." 

After  these  words,  the  negotiation  took  a  more  successful 
course,  and  Pontius  was  compelled  in .  most  cases  to  assent  to 
the  clever  plans  of  Papias. 

'*  I  am  now  going  home,"  concluded  the  sculptor.  "  My 
assistant  will  begin  the  work  immediately.  It  must  go  on 
within  an  inclosure,  to  avoid  disturbance  and  comments  which 
would  delay  us. " 

Half  an  hour  later  a  frame- work  had  been  erected,  within 
which  the  Urania  was  to  stand.  This  was  covered  with  strong- 
linen,  through  wliich  one  could  not  look,  and  behind  it  Pollux 
was  already  busy  forming  a  model  in  wax,  while  his  master 
went  home  to  hasten  preparations  for  the  work  of  the  next  day. 

It  wanted  only  an  hour  of  midnight,  and  still  the  meal  sent 
to  Pontius  from  the  house  of  the  prefect  stood  untouched. 
Pontius  was  hungry;  but  before  allowing  himself  to  partake  of 
the  tempting  provision,  felt  it  his  duty  to  make  another  round 
of  the  apartments,  to  see  if  the  slaves  occupied  in  cleaning  the 
rooms  were  properly  directed  and  had  everything  needful  for 
their  work.  More  light  was  everywhere  requisite,  and  while 
those  cleaning  the  floor  of  the  hall  of  the  Muses  were  complain- 
ing of  this  need,  a  head  appeared  above  the  frame-work  sur- 
rounding the  Urania,  and  a  voice  cried : 

"  My  muse,  with  her  celestial  globe,  stands  beside  the  star- 
gazer,  and  would  sing  her  best  in  the  night-time,  but  not  until 
she  is  finished.  In  order  to  do  this,  one  must  have  light, 
much  light." 

"  And  if  it  were  brighter  here,  the  noise  of  those  below 


40  THE   EMPEROR. 

would  not  be  so  disagreeable.     Create  light,  oh  man,  for  my 
goddess  and  for  thy  needy  fellow-beings  I" 

Pontius  was  amused,  and  answered: 

"  Your  demand  is  just,  my  friend.  But  do  you  really  think 
light  would  have  power  to  deaden  sound?" 

"  Where  light  fails,"  replied  Pollux,  "  i.  e.,  in  the  darkness, 
every  sound  seems  doubled." 

"  That  is  true,  but  I  think  we  must  seek  some  other  ground 
of  explanation.  In  the  morning  we  will  talk  it  over  at  some 
leisure  moment.     Now  I  must  seek  the  lamps  and  candles." 

"  For  that  will  Urania,  who  watches  over  the  fine  arts,  thank 
you,"  cried  Pollux  after  the  architect.  He  went  on  his  way 
to  ask  the  head  workman  if  he  had  carried  his  orders  to  the 
overseer  for  an  abundant  suj^ply  of  light. 

"  Three  times,"  was  the  repl)%  '''  1  have  been  to  him,  but 
he  only  puffed  out  like  a  frog  and  said  notliing,  leaving  me  to 
his  daughter — whom  you  ought  to  see,  for  she  is  charming — 
and  a  miserable  negro  slave  led  me  into  a  little  room,  where  I 
found  the  few  lamps  which  are  burning." 

"  Did  you  give  him  my  order  to  come?" 

''  Three  hours  ago,  for  the  second  time,  while  you  were  talk- 
ing with  Papias. "  The  architect  turned,  and  unrolling  the 
plan  of  the  palace,  found  easily  the  dwelHng  of  the  overseer, 
seized  one  of  the  small  lamps  of  red  clay,  and  made  his  way  in 
that  direction.  Through  a  door  that  was  not  locked  he  en- 
tered a  dark  vestibule,  which  led  into  a  small  apartment,  and 
through  that  into  one  larger  and  well  furnished.  From  thi!>, 
evidently  the  sitting-  and  dining-room  of  the  establishmer.t, 
passages  without  doors  and  protected  only  by  curtains,  led  i;i 
different  directions,  Pontius  could  overlook  the  table  withoi  t 
being  observed,  and  on  Avhich  stood  a  few  dishes  and  a  three- 
armed  bronze  lamp.  A  corpulent  man  Avith  a  flushed  face  ?iit 
facing  the  entrance,  through  which  the  indignant  architect 
would  have  entered  with  little  ceremony  had  he  not  been  ar- 
rested by  the  sound  of  sobbing.  This  evidently  came  from  a 
girl  of  slender  figure,  who  entered  by  an  opposite  door,  bearing 
a  plate  of  bread,  which  she  placed  on  the  table  near  the  over- 
seer, 

"  Don't  cry,  Selene,"  said  he,  breaking  the  bread  slowly, 

"  Why  should  I  not  weep?"  answered  the  girl,  "  Please 
let  me  buy  a  piece  of  meat  only  for  you.  The  physician  for- 
bade you  to  eat  bread  alone." 

'  (Jne  must  satisfy  his  hunger.  Meat  is  costly,  I  have 
nine  mouths  to  fill  without  counting  the  slaves.  Where  shall 
I  get  the  means  to  feed  them  all  with  meat?" 


THE   EMPEROR.  41 

"  We  do  not  need  it,  but  you  must  have  it." 

"  It  will  not  do,  child.  The  butcher  will  give  no  more  on 
trust,  the  other  creditors  threaten,  and  by  the  end  of  the  month 
we  will  have  no  more  than  ten  drachmas  left.'" 

The  girl  turned  pale,  and  said,  anxiously:  "  But,  father,  you 
showed  me  three  gold  pieces  this  morning  as  your  share  of  a 
gift  the  empress  had  made  the  citizens.'^ 

The  overseer  chewed  a  piece  of  bread  in  an  embarrassed 
manner,  and  replied: 

_  "  With  that  I  bought  this  buckle  with  the  carved  onyx — 
ridiculously  cheap  it  was,  too.  When  the  emperor  comes  he 
must  see  who  I  am;  and  if  I  should  die,  any  one  will  give 
twice  as  much  for  it  as  I  paid.  I  assure  you  the  gift  of  the  em- 
press has  been  well  invested." 

Selene  did  not  answer,  but  she  drew  a  heavy  sigh,  and  her 
thoughts  ran  over  many  useless  things  which  he  had  bought  be- 
cause they  were  "cheap,"  while  she  and  her  seven  brothers 
and  sisters  were  wanting  absolute  necessities. 

"  Father,^'  said  the  girl,  after  a  short  silence,  "  I  do  not  like 
to  speak  of  it  again,  but  I  must,  even  though  you  may  be 
angry.  The  chief  architect  who  directs  the  work  in  the  palace 
has  already  sent  twice  for  you." 

"Be  silent,"  said  he,  striking  his  fist  on  the  table.  "  Who 
is  this  Pontius,  and  who  am  I?" 

"  You  are  of  noble  Macedonian  origin,  perhaps  even  con- 
nected with  the  kingly  house  of  Ptolemy,  and  have  a  seat  in 
the  assembly  of  citizens — but  for  this  time,  please  be  conde- 
scending and  gracious.  The  man  has  his  hands  full  and  is 
tired — " 

"  Neither  have  I  been  able  to  sit  still  to-day.  It  is  as  hard 
for  me  as  for  him.  I  am  Keramius,  son  of  Ptolemteus,  whose 
father  came  into  Egypt  with  the  great  Alexander,  and  helped 
found  the  city;  that  everybody  knows.  Our  patrimony  has 
diminished,  but  for  that  very  reason  I  insist  all  the  more  that 
our  noble  blood  shall  be  acknowledged.  Pontius  summons 
Keraunus!  If  it  were  not  revolting,  it  would  be  ridiculous, 
for,  who  is  this  man?  Who?  I  have  told  you  already.  His 
grandfather  was  a  freedman  of  the  late  Prefect  Claudius  Bal- 
billus,  and  through  the  favor  of  the  Romans  his  father  came 
here  and  grew  rich.  He  descended  from  slaves;  and  do  you 
think  that  I  shall  act  the  part  of  an  obedient  servant  whenever 
he  chooses  to  call?" 

"  But,  father,  father,  he  did  not  summon  the  son  of  Ptole- 
mtvus,  but  the  overseer  of  this  palace." 

"  All  subterfuge.    Be  silent — I  will  not  take  one  step  toward 


42  THE    EMPEIJOR. 

him."  The  girl  hiil  her  fjice  in  her  hands,  sobbing  piteously. 
Keniunus  visibly  shrunk,  and  cried  out: 

"  By  the  great  Serapis,  I  can  not  bear  this.  What  is  the  use 
of  whimpering?'^  Then  the  girl  took  heart,  and  coming 
nearer,  said,  her  words  more  than  once  interrupted  by  tears: 

"  You  must  go,  father,  indeed  you  must.  I  sj)oke  with  the 
head  workman,  and  he  said  in  a  cold,  decided  way,  that  Pon- 
tius was  here  in  the  name  of  the  emperor,  and  if  you  did  not 
yield  to  him,  he  would  put  you  out  of  office.  And  if  that 
should  happen!  Oh,  father,  think  of  the  blind  Helios  and  the 
poor  Berenice.  Arsinoe  and  I  can  earn  our  bread,  but  the 
children!'"  With  these  words,  she  fell  on  her  knees  and  raised 
her  hands  to  the  stubborn  man. 

The  blood  had  risen  to  his  head  and  eyes,  and  with  fingers 
rambling  over  his  forehead,  he  sunk  into  his  chair  as  if  under 
a  stroke  of  paralysis.  His  daughter  sprung  up  and  gave  him 
the  cup  of  wine  and  water  that  stood  on  the  table,  but  Ke- 
raunus  waved  her  off,  and  exclaimed,  with  a  visible  effort  in 
breathing: 

"  Put  me  out  of  my  office!  Drive  me  away  from  the  palace! 
Yonder  in  the  ebony  chest  lies  the  written  testimony  of  Euer- 
getes  that  this  ofRce  was  a  hereditary  dignity  in  the  family  of 
my  ancestor  Philip.  The  wife  of  this  Philip  had  the  honor  of 
being  the  mistress — some  said  she  was  the  daughter  of  the 
king.  The  document  is  on  yellow  parchment,  written  in  red 
and  black  ink,  and  bears  the  seal  and  autograjjh  of  the  second 
Euergetes.  All  the  j^rinces  of  the  house  of  Lagus  have  con- 
firmed it;  it  has  been  honored  by  all  the  Eoman  prefects;  and 
now,  now — " 

"  But,  father,''  broke  in  the  girl,  addressing  the  man,  who 
was  wringing  his  hands  in  despair,  '*  you  are  still  in  office,  and 
if  you  only  accommodate  yourself — ' ' 

"  Accommodate  myself!"  shaking  his  fat  hands  over  his 
flushed  face.  ''  I  will  accommodate  myself.  I  will  not  plunge 
you  into  misfortune.  I  Avill  go  at  once,  and  for  the  sake  of 
my  children  let  myself  be  trodden  upon  and  abused.  Like  the 
pelican,  I  will  nourish  my  children  with  the  blood  of  my  own 
heart.  But  you  ought  to  know  what  it  costs  me  thus  to 
humiliate  myself.  It  is  unbearable,  and  my  heart  will  burst, 
for  this  architect  has  reviled  me  as  if  I  were  his  servant — he 
has  uttered  the  villainous  wish  that  I  might  be  drown(;d  in  my 
own  fat — me,  wliom  the  physician  threatens  with  ajioplexy. 
Let  me  alone — let  me  alone.  I  know  that  all  is  possible  to 
the  Komans.     Well,  bring  my  crocus-colored  pallium  that  I 


THE   EMPEEOE.  43 

wear  in  the  council^,  and  my  golden  fillefc.    I  will  adorn  myself 
like  an  offering  for  sacrifice,  and  show  him — " 

Not  a  word  of  this  conversation  had  escaped  Pontius,  which 
had  vexed,  amused,  and  stirred  him  to  pity.  His  own  vigor- 
ous nature  resented  the  drawling  and  indolent  existence  of  the 
man  whose  tardy  indifference  had  excited  the  utterance  of 
words  which  he  now  regretted  having  spoken.  The  foolish 
and  beggarly  pride  had  made  him  angry;  and  who  ever  likes 
to  hear  boast  of  an  origin  to  which  the  sj^eaker  adds  no  glory? 

But  the  wail  of  this  wretched  man's  daughter  had  touched 
his  heart.  He  knew  that  a  single  word  from  his  lips  would  dis- 
place the  230or  simpleton,  and  bring  him  lower  than  ever.  But 
he  chose  to  follow  the  kindly  impulse  of  his  better  nature,  and 
spare  the  unfortunate  family. 

So  he  knocked  vigorously  on  the  door-post,  coughed  loud, 
and  said,  as  he  stepped  over  the  threshold: 

"  I  came,  noble  Keraimus,  to  pay  my  respects,  as  is  becom- 
ing. Forgive  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  but  you  scarcely  know 
how  busy  I  have  been  since  we  parted.  " 

Keraunus  was  at  first  frightened,  then  bewildered.  And 
then  stepping  nearer,  and  stretching  out  both  hands,  as  if  freed 
from  an  Alpine  weight,  such  a  shimmer  of  hearty  enjoyment 
spread  over  his  face,  Pontius  wondered  at  its  really  good  ex- 
pression. 

"  Take  a  place  at  our  modest  table,''  he  begged.  "  Go, 
Selene,  and  call  the  slaves.  Perhaps  we  can  find  a  pheasant  in 
the  larder,  a  roast  fowl,  or  some  tiling  of  the  sort;  though  the 
hour  be  late. " 

"  I  thank  you,"  said  the  architect  smiling;  ''  my  supper 
waits  in  the  Hall  of  the  Muses,  and  I  must  go  back  to  the 
workmen.  I  should  be  glad  to  have  you  accompany  me,  as  I 
want  to  consult  you  about  the  lighting  of  the  palace,  and  we 
can  better  discuss  the  subject  over  a  juicy  roast  and  a  swallow 
of  wine. " 

"  I  am  entirely  at  your  service,"  said  Keraunus,  bowing. 

"  I  will  go  in  advance,"  said  Pontius.  "Please  have  the 
goodness  to  give  all  you  possess  of  lamps,  candles,  and  cressets 
to  the  slave  who  will  wait  your  order  in  a  few  moments." 

As  Pontius  left,  Selene  said,  drawing  a  deeja  breath: 

"  Oh,  this  anxiety!  I  will  go  and  find  the  lamps.  How 
frightfully  all  this  might  have  ended!" 

It  is  well  that  things  have  so  happened,"  murmured 
Keraunus;  "  tliis  architect  is  really  a  fine  fellow,  considering 
his  origin." 


44  THE  EMPEROR. 


CHAPTEE  V. 

Pontius  had  sought  the  dwelling  of  the  overseer  with  a 
frown  upon  his  brow,  but  returned  smiling.  To  the  foreman, 
M'ho  met  him  with  an  inquiring  look,  he  said:  "  The  overseer 
was  a  little  sensitive,  naturally;  but  now  we  are  friendly,  and 
he  will  do  what  he  can  to  light  the  building/' 

In  the  Hall  of  the  Muses  he  stopped  before  the  2)artition, 
and  cried:  ''  Friend  sculptor,  listen  to  me;  it  is  high  time  for 
supper. " 

"  Certainly,"  answered  Pollux,  "  else  we  must  call  it  break- 
fast.'^ 

"  Then,  quarter  of  an  hour  hence,  lay  aside  your  tools,  and 
help  me,  in  company  with  the  overseer  of  this  j)alace,  to  an- 
nihilate the  provisions  sent  me  from  the  house  of  the  prefect.  ■" 

"  You  will  nefed  no  other  assistance,  if  Keraunus  is  there. 
All  food  disappears  before  him  as  ice  before  the  sun.'" 

"Then  deliver  him  from  the  temjDtation  to  overload  liis 
stomach. " 

"  Impossible;  for  I  have  just  made  a  merciless  attack  on  a 
dish  of  cabbage  with  sausage.  My  mother  has  prej^ared  this 
food  fit  for  the  gods,  and  my  father  brought  it  to  his  eldest 
son.'' 

"  Cabbage  with  sausage,"  exclaimed  Pontius,  in  a  tone  that 
suggested  how  gladly  his  hungry  stomach  would  come  into 
closer  relations  with  such  a  dish. 

"  Come  in,"  cried  Pollux,  "  and  be  my  guest.  The  cab- 
bage foreshadows  what  impends  in  this  palace.  It  has  been 
warmed  over." 

"  Warmed-over  cabbage  tastes  better  than  fresh;  but  the  fire 
at  which  we  seek  to  make  this  palace  habitable  is  too  hot,  and 
must  be  poked  too  vigorously.  The  best  things  have  been  car- 
ried away,  and  can  not  be  recovered." 

"  Just  like  the  sausage,  which  I  have  fished  out  of  the  cab- 
bage," laughed  the  sculptor. 

*  I  can  not  honestly  invite  you  to  be  my  guest,  without  flat- 
tering the  provision  when  I  call  it  cabbage  with  sausage.  I 
have  ti-eated  it  as  if  mining,  and  since  the  sausage  digging  has 
nearly  exhausted  it,  there  only  remains  the  ground  stull",  in 
wliich  two  or  three  harmless  fragments  remain,  to  remind  one 
of  tlie  former  riches — another-  time  my  mother  will  cook  the 
dish  for  you;  she  prepares  it  with  inimitable  skill." 

"  That  is  a  good  thought,  but  to-day  you  must  be  my  guest." 


THE   EMPEROR.  45 

"  I  am  already  surfeited." 

"  Then  you  shall  season  our  meal  with  your  good  nature." 

"  Forgive  me,  sir,  and  allow  me  to  remain  in  my  cupboard. 
In  the  first  place,  I  am  in  excellent  condition  to  press  forward 
with  the  work  to-night — " 

"  And  to-morrow  also. " 

"  Hear  me  through." 

"Very  well." 

"  You  would  render  your  second  guest  a  poor  service  by  in- 
viting me." 

"  Do  you  know  the  overseer?" 

"  From  a  child;  I  am  a  son  of  the  gate-keeper  of  this  pal- 
ace." 

"  So,  then,  you  are  from  the  pretty  little  house  with  the  ivy, 
and  the  birds  and  the  cheery  old  woman?" 

"  She  is  my  mother,  and  so  soon  as  her  favorite  butcher  pre- 
pares another  sausage,  will  cook  us  another  dish  of  cabbage." 

"  That  is  a  pleasant  prospect." 

"  There  comes  the  mill-horse,  or,  on  nearer  view,  the  over- 
seer Keraunus. " 

"  Are  you  at  loggerheads  with  him?" 

"  I  with  him,  no;  but  he  with  me,  yes.  It  is  a  stupid  story. 
Do  not  ask  for  it  at  our  anticipated  feast,  if  you  want  a  jolly 
companion.  Do  not  tell  Keraunus  that  I  am  here — it  will  lead 
to  nothing  good." 

"  As  you  wish;  but  here  come  our  lamps. ^^ 

"  There  are  enough  to  illuminate  the  under  world,"  cried 
Pollux,  making  a  joarting  salute  to  the  architect  as  he  disap- 
peared behind  the  screen,  to  work  with  renewed  diligence  on 
his  model. 

:i:  *****  * 

It  was  long  after  midnight  when  the  slaves,  having  finished 
their  work  in  the  Hall  of  the  Muses,  were  at  liberty  to  sleep  on 
straw  spread  for  that  purpose  in  another  part  of  the  palace. 
The  architect  also  wished  to  refresh  himself  by  a  short  nap  for 
the  duties  of  the  following  day;  but  between  this  wish  and  its 
fulfillment  stood  the  corpulent  figure  of  his  guest. 

He  had  invited  this  man,  whom  he  found  eating  bread  to 
spare  the  meat,  to  dii:ic  with  him,  in  order  to  satisfy  his  appe- 
tite, and  had  found  him  entirely  responsive  to  the  opportunity. 
After  the  last  dish  had  been  removed,  he  sought  to  impress 
upon  his  host  the  honor  conferred  by  his  own  presence.  The 
good  wine  of  the  j^refect  loosened  his  tongue  and  made  him 
speak  too  freely  of  personal  matters.  Pontius,  seeking  to 
divert  conversation  to  other  topics,  inadvertently  mentioned 


46  THE   EMPEROR. 

the  council  of  citizens.  This  turned  the  stream  of  his  elo- 
quence, and,  while  he  emjitied  cup  after  cup,  he  expatiated  on 
a  measure  attemjjted  among  his  own  particular  friends  to  take 
away  the  rights  of  citizenship  from  the  Jews  of  Alexandria, 
and  drive  them  from  the  city.  His  zeal  was  so  intense  that, 
quite  forgetting  the  \vell-knovvn  origin  of  his  host,  he  declared 
it  necessary  to  include  all  descendants  of  slaves  in  this  edict. 
Pontius  knew,  from  his  glowing  cheeks  and  e3'es,  that  the  wine 
was  sjieaking  through  him,  and  made  no  answer.  But  he  de- 
termined not  to  curtail  any  longer  the  sleep  he  so  much  need- 
ed. So,  excusing  himself,  he  left  the  table  and  sought  the 
apartment  in  which  a  bed  had  been  j)repared  for  him.  After 
he  was  ready  for  sleep,  he  sent  his  slaves  to  look  after  Kerau- 
nus,  and  they  reported  him  as  fast  asleep  and  snoring. 

"  Listen,"  said  one  of  them;  "  you  can  hear  it  from  here. 
I  put  a  cusliion  under  his  head,  for  so  fat  a  man  might  hm-t 
himself.'' 

Love  is  a  plant  that  grows  for  the  use  of  many  who  have 
neither  sowed  or  nurtured  it,  and  for  whom  it  becomes  a  shady 
tree. 

How  little  had  Keraunus  done  to  win  the  heart  of  his  daugh- 
ter— and  how  much  that  could  not  fad  to  make  her  young  life 
unhappy! 

Selene  sat  by  the  three-armed  lamp,  watchful  and  anxious 
over  the  prolonged  absence  of  her  father,  though  her  nmeteen- 
year-old  body  needed  sleep  to  refresh  her  for  the  cares  and 
burdens  of  another  day.  One  week  before,  her  father  had  sud- 
denly lost  consciousness;  and  though  it  was  only  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, the  physician  had  told  her  it  was  necessary  that  he  fol- 
low strictly  his  directions,  and  that  he  must  avoid  all  excesses. 
A  single  imprudence,  he  had  assured  her,  might  snap  the 
thread  of  life.  After  her  father  went  out  with  the  architect, 
Selene  had  seated  herself  to  mend  the  clothing  of  the  younger 
children.  Arsinoe,  the  sister  two  years  her  jiuiior,  was  fully 
able  to  share  this  task,  but  had  gone  early  to  rest,  to  watch 
over  the  little  ones  through  the  night.  The  old  slave,  who 
had  served  her  family  since  the  day  of  her  grandparents,  would 
have  assisted  gladly,  but  her  feeble  eyes  could  no  longer  see 
the  stitches;  so  Selene  sent  her  to  rest,  and  undertook  the  work 
alone.  For  an  hour  she  served  without  looking  up,  calculating 
the  chances  of  making  the  few  drachmas  on  which  she  could 
depend  last  to  the  end  of  the  month.  As  it  became  later  she 
grew  more  and  more  tired,  and  though  her  head  often  sunk 
upon  lier  breast,  she  still  tried  to  keep  on  with  the  work.     She 


THE  EMPEROR.  ,  47 

must  wait  her  father's  return  to  give  liim  the  drink  prescribed 
by  the  physician^,  or  he  would  surely  forget  it.  At  the  end  of 
the  second  hour  sleep  overcame  her,  and  it  seemed  to  her  that 
the  chair  on  which  she  sat  fell  apart,  and  she  began  to  sink, 
slowly  at  first,  but  then  faster  and  faster,  into  a  deep  chasm. 
Seeking  help,  she  looked  upward,  but  could  see  only  the  face 
of  her  father,  gazing  indifferently  upon  her.  In  the  course  of 
her  dream  she  called  him  again  and  again,  but  for  a  long 
time  he  did  not  seem  to  hear.  Finally,  he  looked  down,  and 
laughed  when  he  saw  her;  but  instead  of  helping  her  up,  gath- 
ered stones  and  bits  of  sod  from  the  side  of  the  chasm  and 
threw  them  down  upon  the  fingers  with  which  she  was  clasp- 
ing the  blackberry  vines  and  the  roots  growing  in  the  clefts  of 
the  rock. 

She  begged  him  to  give  up  the  sport;  she  implored  him  to 
help  her,  but  not  a  muscle  of  his  face  moved.  The  features 
seemed  stiffened  into  that  empty  smile;  truly  his  fatherly  heart 
was  dead,  for  he  continued  pelting  her  pitilessly  with  pebbles 
and  bits  of  earth,  until  her  hands  lost  their  grasp,  and  she  was 
smking  into  the  abyss.  Her  own  cry  roused  her,  but  she  did 
not  at  once  waken  fully.  As  she  came  out  of  the  dream,  she 
seemed  to  see  clouds  parting  behind  a  soft  meadow,  covered 
with  high  grass  and  starred  with  flowers,  on  which  she  was 
lying;  and  near  it  shimmered  a  sea,  and  beyond  this  rose 
mountains  with  red-tinted  rocks  and  green  forests  in  the  clear 
sunshine.  A  fair  sky,  over  which  floated  silvery  clouds,  was 
above  all.  It  was  but  for  a  moment,  and  the  picture  vanished, 
which  was  utterly  unlike  anything  she  had  ever  seen.  She  had 
slept  but  a  short  time,  but  as  she  rubbed  her  eyes  it  seemed 
that  the  dream  had  lasted  for  hours.  One  flame  of  her  lamp 
had  well-nigh  gone  out.  She  trimmed  it,  put  in  fresh  oil, 
then  ran  to  her  father's  room.  He  had  not  yet  returned. 
Now  she  was  really  distressed.  Had  the  wine  of  the  architect 
destroyed  his  senses?  Had  he  been  seized  with  dizziness  on  the 
way  home?  In  fancy  she  saw  the  corpulent  man  unable  to 
rise,  and  perhaps  dying  on  the  ground.  There  was  no  choice. 
She  must  go  to  the  Hall  of  the  Muses,  and  see  what  was  the 
matter;  help  him  up  if  he  had  fallen;  or  if  still  at  the  banquet, 
persuade  him  to  return  home.  The  interests  of  all  hung  in 
the  balance — the  life  of  her  father,  support  and  protection  for 
eight  helpless  beings. 

The  December  night  was  raw.  The  air  in  the  poorly  protect- 
ed passages  was  bitterly  cold;  but  Selene  tied  a  scarf  over  her 
head,  and  wrapped  a  mantle  which  had  belonged  to  her  dead 
mother  about  her  shoulders.     She  held  the  lamp  in  one  trem- 


48  THE   EMPEROR. 

bling  hand,  and  with  the  other  guarded  the  flame  from  the 
strong  draught.  The  heavy  sandals  bound  under  her  feet  woke 
loud  echoes  in  the  empty  spaces,  and  excited  her  timidity, 
especially  under  the  cupola  where  Ptolemy  Euergetes,  "the 
Fat,''  was  supposed  to  have  murdered  his  own  son,  many  years 
before.  Still  she  did  not  forget  to  look  on  all  sides  for  her 
father,  and  she  breathed  more  freely  when  she  saw  light  stream 
through  the  cracks  of  a  side  door  opening  into  the  hall,  and. 
falling  brokenly  on  the  pavements  and  the  walls  of  the  last 
space  she  must  pass  before  reaching  it.  Now  she  entered  the 
hall,  which  was  dimly  lighted  by  the  lamps  within  the  sculptor's 
inclosure,  and  a  few  well-nigh  exjoiring  candles,  which  stood  on 
sawing  trestles  and  the  boards  of  the  table  behind  which  her 
father  was  asleep.  The  deeply  sonorous  notes  from  the  chest 
of  the  sleeper  echoed  through  the  empty  spaces,  and  made  her 
still  more  anxious;  and  the  long  shadows  of  the  columns  which 
her  path  must  cross  seemed  strangely  weird.  She  stopped  in 
the  midst  of  the  hall  to  listen,  and,  recognizing  the  familiar 
snore,  hastened  onward  toward  the  sleeping  man.  She  shook 
him,  she  called  him,  she  sprinkled  water  on  his  forehead,  she 
addressed  to  him  the  most  endearing  epithets,  such  as  she  had 
heard  from  the  lips  of  Arsinoe  when  caressing  and  flattering 
her  father.  As,  in  spite  of  all,  he  did  not  move,  she  threw  the 
lamp-light  into  his  face,  and  fancied  a  blue  shimmer  spread 
over  his  bloated  countenance.  Then  she  broke  into  that  jjiti- 
ful  sobbing  which  had  so  touched  the  heart  of  Pontius  a  few 
hours  before.  Xow  there  was  motion  behind  the  sculptor's 
screen.  Pollux  had  worked  diligently  for  a  long  time,  but  at 
length  the  snoring  of  Keraunus  disturbed  him.  The  body  of 
his  muse  had  already  taken  shape,  but  he  needed  daylight  to 
form  the  head.  So  he  let  liis  arms  drop,  and  drawing  his 
bench  near  to  a  chest  filled  with  gypsum,  leaned  his  head  upon 
it.  But  he  was  too  much  excited  to  sleejD  easily,  and  when  he 
heard  Selene's  footfall  he  rose  and  looked  out.  When  he  saw 
the  tall  figure,  with  a  lamp  in  its  trembling  hand,  move 
through  the  hall  and  stop  suddenly,  curiosity  led  him  to  notice 
carefully.  As  Selene  looked  around,  and  the  lamp-light  re- 
vealed her  face,  he  recognized  the  daughter  of  the  overseer, 
and  understood  at  once  what  she  sought. 

There  was  something  touching  in  her  efforts  to  waken  the 
sleeper,  but  at  the  same  time  irresistibly  ludicrous.  Pollux 
was  tempted  to  laugh.  But  when  Selene  broke  into  sobbing, 
he  burst  asunder  a  part  of  his  frame-work,  and  called  her  by 
name  as  he  approached.  He  begged  her  not  to  fear,  as  he  was 
no  ghost,  but  very  decidedly  a  mortal,  and,  as  she  could  see, 


THE   EMPEROR.  49 

only  the  good-for-nothing  but  now  improving  son  of  Eupho- 
rion,  the  gate-keeper. 

''  You  Pollux?"  asked  the  girl,  surprised. 

"  I  myself.     But  you?     Can  I  give  you  help?" 

"  My  poor  father!"  cried  Selene.  "  He  will  not  stir.  He 
is  quite  stiff,  and  his  face — oh,  ye  everlasting  gods!" 

"  He  who  snores  is  not  dead,"  answered  the  sculptor. 

"But  the  physician  said — " 

"He  is  not  at  all  sick.  Pontius  has  given  him  stronger 
wine  than  he  is  accustomed  to  use.  Let  him  be.  He  sleeps, 
with  the  cushion  under  his  head,  as  soundly  as  a  child.  When 
he  began  to  snore  I  whistled  as  loud  as  a  plover,  for  that  will 
sometimes  bring  a  snorer  to  silence;  but  I  could  as  easily  make 
the  stone  muses  dance  as  waken  him." 

"  If  we  could  only  get  him  into  his  bed." 

"  Had  you  four  horses  at  hand — " 

"  You  are  just  as  bad  as  ever." 

"  A  little  less  so,  Selene.-  You  must  only  get  used  to  my 
way  of  speakiug.  This  time  I  only  meant  that  both  of  us  to- 
gether are  not  strong  enough  to  carry  him. " 

"But  what  am  I  to  do?     The  physician  said — " 

"  Don^t  speak  of  the  physician.  I  know  the  disease  which 
has  attacked  your  father.  It  will  all  be  gone  in  the  morning. 
Only  let  him  sleep. " 

"  It  is  cold  here." 

*'  Then  cover  him  with  my  mantle." 

"  You  will  freeze  without  it." 

"  I  am  used  to  it.  How  long  since  Keraunus  had  anything 
to  do  with  the  physician?" 

Selene  told  him  of  her  father's  accident,  and  what  reason 
she  had  to  be  anxious.  Pollux  listened  silently,  and  said,  in  a 
changed  tone: 

"  I  am  heartily  sorry.  We  will  put  cold  water  on  his  fore- 
head. There  is  a  basin,  and  here  is  a  cloth.  Good !  That  is 
settled.  I  will  change  it  every  quarter  of  an  hour,  until  the 
slaves  return.  Perhaps  this  may  waken  him,  but  if  not,  they 
can  carry  him  home." 

"  That  will  be  disgraceful,"  sighed  the  girl. 

"  Not  in  the  least.  Even  the  high-priest  of  Serapis  can  be 
unwell.     Let  me  do  it." 

"  It  would  irritate  him  again  should  he  wake.  He  is  so 
very  angry  with  you — " 

"Powerful  Jupiter,  what  great  injury  have  I  done?  The 
gods  themselves  forgive  the  sins  of  the  wise,  and  shall  not  a 
man  forgive  the  foUies  of  a  stupid  youth?" 


50  THE   EMPEROR. 

''  You  mocked  liira." 

"  I  put  iu  the  place  of  the  broken  head  of  Silenus,  near  the 
gate,  a  head  of  clay  which  resembled  him.  It  Avas  my  first  in- 
dependent work." 

YoM  made  it  to  insult  my  father." 

"  Truly  not,  Selene;  I  did  it  for  sport,  and  nothing  else." 

"  But  you  know  how  sensitive  he  is." 

**  Is  it,  fair  to  hold  over  a  boy  of  fifteen  the  consequences  of 
his  wanton  mirth?  Had  he  only  taken  the  cudgel  tome,  his 
rage  would  have  passed  off  in  thunder  and  lightning,  and  the 
air  would  have  been  clear  again.  But  no  I  he  cut  the  face 
from  my  image  with  his  knife  and  crushed  it  slowly  to  pieces 
on  the  ground.  He  gave  me  one  single  snap  of  his  thumb, 
which  I  honestly  feel  to  this  day,  and  then  lie  scorned  me,  and 
has  treated  me  and  my  parents  with  coldness  and  hardness  and 
bitter  contemjot  from  that  day  to  this." 

"  He  is  never  violent,  but  I  have  seldom  seen  him  so  con- 
sumed with  auger  as  on  that  occasion." 

"  Had  he  only  reckoned  with  me  alone,  but  my  father  was 
present,  and  that  roused  sharp  words;  then  my  mother  added 
hers,  and  after  that  the  hostility  was  complete  between  the  lit- 
tle house  and  yours.  It  hurt  me  most  that  you  and  your  sister 
were  forbidden  to  come  to  the  house  and  play  with  me. " 

"  That  also  spoiled  maiiy  pleasant  hours  for  me." 

"  It  was  nice  when  we  dressed  ourselves  in  father's  old  thea- 
ter rubbish  and  mantles. " 

"  And  when  you  made  us  dolls  of  clay." 

"  Or  when  we  had  the  Olympic  games. " 

"  I  was  always  teacher  when  we  played  school  with  the  chil- 
dren." 

"  Arsinoe  gave  you  most  to  do." 

"  And  the  fun  when  we  went  fishing!" 

"  When  we  brought  home  the  fish  my  mother  gave  us  flour 
and  raisins  to  cook  with  them.  Do  you  remember  the  feast  of 
Adonis,  and  how  I  thrust  back  the  plunging  horse  of  the 
Numidian  knight?" 

"  That  horse  had  already  thrown  Arsinoe  over;  and  as  we 
came  home,  mother  gave  you  almond  cakes." 

"  But  your  ungrateful  sister  took  a  large  bite  of  it,  leaving 
me  only  a  fragment." 

"  Is  Arsinoe  as  pretty  as  she  then  promised  to  become?  It 
is  two  years  since  I  have  seen  her.  We  are  never  discharged 
from  work  until  dark.  I  had  a  job  for  the  nuister  in  Ptolemais, 
which  lasted  eight  months,  anil  I  frequently  saw  my  parents 
but  once  in  a  month. " 


THE    EMPEROR.  51 

"We  go  out  very  little,  and  never  dare  enter  your  house. 
My  sister — " 

"  Is  she  very  pretty?" 

"  I  think  so.  When  she  gets  a  new  ribbon  she  braids  it  in 
her  hair,  and  then  the  men  on  the  street  stare  at  her.  She  is 
sixteen  now." 

"  The  little  Arsinoe  sixteen  years  old!  How  long  is  it  since 
your  mother  died?" 

"  Four  years  and  eight  months." 

"  You  remember  the  time  well.  It  is  hard  to  forget  such  a 
mother.  She  was  a  good  woman,  and  I  never  met  a  kindlier. 
I  know  that  she  tried  to  soften  your  father,  but  did  not  suc- 
ceed, and  then  she  must  die." 

"Yes,"  said  Selene,  sadly.  "How  could  the  gods  take 
her?     They  are  often  more  cruel  than  the  hardest  of  men." 

"  Your  poor  little  brothers  and  sisters?" 

The  girl  nodded  sadly.  Pollux,  too,  looked  for  awhile  sadly 
on  the  ground;  then  he  raised  his  head  and  said,  cheerily: 

"  I  have  something  that  will  make  you  happy!" 

"  Nothing  can  make  me  happy  since  she  died." 

"I  know,"  said  Pollux,  "how  that  is.  I  have  never  for- 
gotten the  good  woman ;  and  once  in  a  leisure  hour  made  a 
bust  of  her  from  memory.     I  will  bring  it  to  you  to-morrow. " 

"  Oh!"  exclaimed  Selene;  and  a  glance  of  real  joy  lighted 
her  large,  earnest  eyes. 

"  That  makes  you  happy,  does  it  not?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,  very  happy.  But  if  my  father  should  know 
that  you  have  given  it  to  me — " 

"  Do  you  think  he  would  break  it  to  pieces?" 

"  Though  he  might  not  break  it,  he  would  not  suffer  it  to 
be  in  the  house,  when  he  knew  it  to  be  your  work." 

Pollux  took  the  compress  from  the  head  of  Keraunus,  wet 
it,  and  said,  as  he  laid  it  back: 

"  I  have  an  idea.  It  is  not  certain  that  my  bust  would  re- 
mind you  of  your  mother.  And  it  does  not  need  to  stand  in 
your  house.  Upon  the  bastion  which  your  balcony  overlooks 
are  the  busts  of  the  Ptolemaic  women.  Some  of  them  are  in- 
jured, and  are  to  be  put  in  repair.  I  will  undertake  that  of 
Berenice,  and  put  this  head  there.  Then  whenever  you  go  out 
you  can  see  it.     Would  that  please  you?" 

"  Oh,  Pollux,  you  are  a  good  man!" 

"  I  tokl  you  so.  I  have  already  begun  to  improve.  But 
time  is  flying.  If  I  undertake  the  IBerenice,  I  must  put  every 
moment  to  use. " 


52  THE   EMPEROR. 

"  Go  back  to  your  work  now.  I  understand  wetting  the 
compresses. " 

With  these  words,  Selene  drew  the  mantle  closer  to  gain 
freer  play  for  her  hands.  As  she  stood  there,  with  her  slender 
figure  and  pale  face,  and  the  folds  of  rich  stuff  falling  about 
her  shoulders,  opposite  Pollux,  he  cried  out,  so  suddenly  as  to 
startle  her:  "  Stand  still— exactly  as  you  are.  That  drapery 
is  wonderful.  In  the  name  of  all  the^gods,  do  not  disturb  it! 
Let  me  copy  it,  and  I  shall  gain  in  a  few  moments  a  whole 
day's  time  for  our  Berenice.  1  can  attend  to  the  compresses 
at  the  same  time. " 

Without  waiting  her  answer,  he  hastened  behind  the  screen, 
and  returned  ^\•ith  a  lamp  in  each  hand,  the  tools  in  his  mouth; 
then  back  again  for  the  wax  model,  which  was  placed  on  the 
further  corner  of  the  table  behind  which  Keraunus  lay.  The 
candles  were  put  out,  the  lamps  lighted  and  regulated  to  give 
the  proper  light.  Pollux  threw  himself  on  a  bench,  put  his 
legs  forward,  and  stretched  his  neck,  and  elevated  his  head, 
throwing  his  crooked  nose  forward  like  a  vulture  which  seeks 
its  prey  far  in  the  distance,  dropped  his  eyes,  and  then  raised 
them  repeatedly,  as  if  seeking  inspiration,  his  nails  and  finger- 
tips meanwhile  playing  over  the  surface  of  the  wax,  or  buried 
in  the  pliant  stuff,  changing  what  seemed  already  finished,  and 
adding  new  points  with  amazing  rapidity.  His  hands  seemed 
to  act  convulsively,  but  deep,  serene  eyes,  full  of  intense  ear- 
nestness, looked  out  from  under  his  heavy  brows. 

Selene  had  not  in  words  given  her  permission  to  stand  as  his 
model ;  but,  as  if  fully  sharing  liis  zeal,  she  remained  motion- 
less, and,  when  meeting  his  gaze,  seemed  to  understand  the 
earnestness  of  her  former  gay  companion.  For  a  long  time 
neither  of  them  moved  their  lips.  At  last,  Pollux  stepped 
backward,  scanning  his  work  with  a  sharp  scrutiny,  and  said, 
while  he  rubbed  the  wax  from  his  fingers: 

"  So  it  must  be.  Now  I  will  put  on  another  compress,  and 
we  will  go  on.     If  you  are  tired,  you  may  rest. " 

She  did  not  accept  this  permission,  and  the  Avork  was  re- 
sumed. As  he  carefully  laid  again  a  few  folds  that  had  be- 
come disarranged,  she  raised  her  foot  to  step  back,  but  he  said, 
earnestly : 

"  Stay  where  you  are,"  and  she  obeyed. 

Pollux  worked  now  less  intently,  and  began  to  talk. 

"  You  are  very  pale.  Is  it  the  effect  of  the  lamp-light  and 
the  night  without  slee]!?'' 

*'  I  always  look  jmle,  but  I  am  not  sick." 

"  I  thought  Arsinoe  would  look  more  like  your  mother,  but 


THE    EMPEROK.  53 

I  find  many  of  your  features  are  like  hers.  Your  faces  have 
the  same  oval;  the  connecting  lines  of  forehead  and  nose  are 
exactly  alike;  your  great  eyes  and  the  shape  of  the  brows  as 
if  taken  from  her  face.  But  your  mouth  is  smaller  and  more 
finely  chiseled,  and  she  could  hardly  have  bound  so  heavy  a 
knot  of  hair  on  the  back  of  her  head.  I  think,  too,  yours  is  of 
a  lighter  shade.'" 

"  When  a  girl,  she  jjrobably  had  fuller  hair,  and  I  know  it 
was  as  light  as  mine  in  her  childhood. '^ 

"  They  are  alike  in  this,  too,  that,  while  not  curly,  it  lies  in 
soft  waves  over  your  head.^' 

"  That  makes  it  easy  to  take  care  of. " 

"  Are  you  not  taller  than  she  was?" 

"  I  think  so;  but  since  she  was  fuller,  she  seemed  shorter. 
Are  you  almost  through?" 

"  You  are  tired  of  standing?" 

"  Not  very.'' 

"  Then  have  a  little  more  patience.  Your  face  reminds  me 
more  and  more  of  past  years.  It  seems  to  me  Time  has  taken 
a  long  step  backward.    'Have  you  the  same  sensibilities?" 

Selene  shook  her  head. 

"  You  are  not  happy?" 

"No." 

"  I  know  well  that  you  have  heavy  duties  for  one  of  your 
age." 

"  I  let  things  go  as  they  will." 

"  No.  I  know  that  you  do  not.  You  care  for  the  brothers 
and  sisters  like  a  mother. " 

"  Like  a  mother!"  repeated  Selene,  her  lips  parting  in  a 
bitter  smile. 

"  Of  course  maternal  love  is  different  from  all  others;  but  I 
know  the  father  and  the  children  have  every  reason  to  be  con- 
tented." 

"  Perhaps  the  little  ones  and  our  blind  Helios;  but  Arsinoe 
does  what  she  pleases. " 

"  You  are  certainly  not  happy,  I  see,  and  you  were  formerly 
fresh  and  cheerful,  if  not  merry,  like  your  sister." 

"  Formerly?" 

"  How  sad  that  sounds!  And  yet  you  are  young  and  fair, 
and  life  lies  before  you!" 

"  What  a  life!" 

"  What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Pollux;  and  added,  in  a  hearty 
tone,  as  he  turned  from  his  work  to  look  on  the  fair,  pale  face: 
"  A  life  that  ought  to  be  all  full  of  love  and  prosperity." 

The  girl  shook  her  head,  and  answered,  rather  sadly: 


54  THE   EMPEROR. 

*'  *  Love  is  joy/  says  the  Christian  -woman  who  oversees  our 
work  in  the  papyrus  mill.  And  since  my  mother  died  I  have 
never  been  joyful.  I  had  everything  in  childhood.  Now  I 
come  nearest  to  being  happy  when  we  escape  dire  misfortune. 
Whatever  comes  I  accept,  because  I  can  not  help  it.  My 
heart  is  empty,  except  when  occupied  by  fear.  I  have  long 
ceased  to  expect  anything  good  in  the  future. " 

"  Girl,"'  cried  Pollux,  "  what  has  happened  to  you?  I 
comprehend  only  a  part  of  what  you  say.  How  do  you  come 
m  the  papyrus  mill?" 

"  Do  not  betray  me,'*  said  Selene.  "If  my  father  should 
hear — " 

"  He  is  asleep,  and  what  you  have  said  to  me  no  one  shall 
know." 

"  But  why  should  I  conceal  it?  I  go  every  day  with  Arsmoe 
to  the  pajjyrus  mill  to  earn  a  little  money." 

"  Without  the  knowledge  of  3'our  father?" 

"  Yes.  He  would  rather  see  us  starve  than  allow  it.  It  is 
hard  to  practice  this  jiious  fraud,  but  I  can  not  heljD  it.  Ar- 
sinoe  thinks  only  of  herself.  She  jalays  at  draughts  Avith  father, 
and  curls  his  hair,  and  dandles  the  children  as  if  they  were 
dolls,  but  it  comes  entirely  ujDon  me  to  provide  for  the  neces- 
sities of  all." 

"  And  yet  you  say  you  are  without  love.  Fortunately  no 
one  will  believe  it,  and  I  last  of  all.  My  mother  was  teUing 
me  of  you  lately,  and  I  thought  then  you  were  just  the  girl  to 
make  an  excellent  wife. " 

"  And  to-day?" 

"To-day  I  know  it.'; 

"  Perhaps  you  are  mistaken. " 

"  No,  no,  you  are  called  Selene,  and  are  mild  and  gentle, 
like  moonlight.     Names  have  their  significance. " 

"  But  my  little  brother,  who  has  never  seen  the  light,  is 
called  Helios." 

Pollux  had  spoken  with  great  warmth,  but  the  last  words  of 
Selene  had  frightened  him  and  repressed  his  rising  sensibility. 
When  he  did  not  answer  her  bitter  outcry  she  said,  at  first 
coolly,  but  with  increasing  emotion:  "  You  begin  to  believe 
what  I  said,  and  are  right  in  doing  so;  for  what  I  do  for  the 
children  is  not  out  of  love  or  goodness,  or  because  I  prefer 
their  welfare  to  my  own.  I  hiherit  pride  from  my  father,  and 
it  would  be  hard  for  me  to  see  my  brothers  and  sisters  in  rags, 
and  to  have  people  think  us  as  poor  as  we  really  are.  That 
which  1  most  dread  is  sickness  in  the  house — for  then  comes 
anxiety,  which  never  leaves  me,  and  which  uses  the  last  sea- 


THE   EMPEROR.  55 

terce — for  the  children  must  not  starve.  I  do  not  want  to 
represent  myself  worse  than  I  am,  for  it  does  pain  me  to  see 
them  suffer.  But  what  I  do  for  them  does  not  bring  joy —the 
liighest  emotion  is  fear.  Do  you  ask  what  I  fear?  That  which 
is  possible  to  befall  us,  and  I  never  expect  good.  If  there 
is  a  knock  at  the  door  I  think  it  may  be  a  creditor.  When 
people  stare  at  Arsinoe  on  the  street,  I  fancy  dishonor  is  slink- 
ing stealthily  behind.  When  my  father  disregards  the  order 
of  the  physician,  I  imagine  we  are  already  standing  on  the 
open  street,  without  protection.  How  much  I  might  do  had  I 
only  a  joyful  heart!  Surely  I  am  not  indolent,  but  I  envy 
every  woman  who  sits  with  her  hands  folded  in  her  lap  and  is 
waited  on  by  slaves;  and  if  a  fortune  were  to  fall  into  my 
hands  I  would  never  lift  a  finger,  but  sleep  until  the  sun  was 
high,  and  let  the  slaves  care  for  father  and  the  children.  My 
life  is  simply  misery.  And  if  there  comes  now  and  then  a 
brighter  hour  it  has  passed  by  before  I  have  recovered  from 
the  surprise  of  it.'^ 

Pollux  felt  chilled,  and  the  heart  which  had  opened  wide  to 
his  fair  playmate  closed  again.  Before  he  could  think  of  the 
right  words  in  which  to  reply,  a  trumpet-note  rang  through 
the  hall  adjoining  to  awaken  the  slumbering  slaves  and  the 
workmen.  Selene  was  frightened,  and  drew  her  mantle 
closer.  Then  begging  Pollux  to  take  care  of  her  father  and 
to  hide  the  wine-jar,  she  hastened  toward  the  door  through 
which  she  had  entered,  forgetting  her  lamp.  Pollux  hastened 
after  to  light  her  through  the  passage,  and  begged  her  with 
words  whose  warmth  and  earnestness  touched  her  heart,  to 
stand  once  more  as  his  model.  Fifteen  minutes  later  the  over- 
seer was  lying  asleep  in  his  own  bed;  but  Pollux,  who  was 
stretched  on  a  cushion  within  his  working  spac^e,  could  not 
banish  from  his  thoughts  the  image  of  the  pale  girl  with  her 
benumbed  soul. 

Finally,  however,  sleep  overcame  him,  and  a  friendly  dream 
brought  a  vision  of  the  jjretty  little  Arsinoe,  who,  but  for  him, 
would  have  been  trodden  under  the  hoofs  of  the  Numidian 
horse  at  the  feast  of  Adonis.  She  seemed  to  offer  him  an 
almond  cake  that  she  had  taken  from  her  sister,  who  let  it  go 
quietly  with  an  emotionless  smile. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Alexandkia  was  greatly  excited. 

The  approaching  visit  of  the  emperor  turned  the  thoughts  of 
the  busy  throngs  of  citizen  from  the  monotonous  paths  of  daily 


66  THE  EMPEROR. 

toil  after  the  means  of  support  toward  hours  of  fi-eedom  and 
enjoyment. 

In  many  factories,  workshops,  auditoriums  and  magazines 
the  busy  wheel  of  industry  turned  without  cessatioii;  for  all 
classes  and  conditions  were  animated  by  the  desire  to  make 
this  visit  of  Hadrian  a  time  of  unexampled  brilliancy.  What- 
ever of  inventive  genius,  or  wealth,  or  beauty  was  to  be  found 
among  them  v.  as  claimed  to  aid  in  the  plays  and  processions 
which  were  to  occupy  several  days.  The  richest  heathen  citi- 
zens had  undertaken  the  arrangement  of  the  theatrical  per- 
formances, a  mock  sea-fight,  and  the  bloody  games  in  the 
amjihitheater;  but  the  number  of  these  was  so  great  it  was 
quite  imjjossible  to  manage  them  all.  And  the  sums  re- 
quired for  the  indispensable  parts,  such  as  the  performances  in 
the  hippodrome,  the  ornamentiug  of  the  streets,  and  the  enter- 
tainment of  the  Roman  guests,  was  so  large  that  even  Titianus, 
who  was  accustomed  to  see  his  Roman  associates  play  with 
millions,  was  dismayed.  As  viceroy,  it  was  his  duty  to  lend 
eye  and  ear  to  all.  In  general  lie  gave  free  hand  to  the 
citizens;  but  more  than  once  was  forced  to  remonstrate  against 
extravagance.  The  greatest  trouble,  not  only  to  him,  but  to 
those  chosen  by  the  citizens  as  leaders  in  these  demonstrations, 
was  in  harmonizing  discords  between  heathen  and  Jewish 
citizens. 

From  an  assembly,  in  which  all  these  questions  were  at  last 
definitely  settled  through  his  vigorous  exertions,  Titianus  be- 
took himself  to  the  Cgesareum  for  the  daily  visit  which  the 
empress  expected. 

He  felt  rejoiced  to  have  these  preliminaries  arranged,  for 
six  days  had  already  passed  since  work  had  been  commenced 
on  the  Lochias,  and  the  time  of  the  emperor's  arrival  was 
hastening  on. 

He  found  Sabina,  as  usual,  on  her  lounge,  but  she  sat  more 
nearly  erect  to-day. 

She  seemed  to  have  recovered  from  the  effects  of  her  sea 
voyage,  for  there  was  more  red  (paint)  on  her  hps  and  cheeks, 
and  since  she  had  promised  to  receive  visits  from  the  sculptors 
Papias  and  Aristeas,  had  her  hair  arranged  as  in  the  statue  of 
Verus  Victrix  made  five  years  before. 

As  a  copy  of  this  statue  was  set  up  in  Alexandria,  some  wag 
had  scattered  these  words  among  the  citizens: 

"  This  Aphrodite  is  certainly  victorious,  for  whoever  sees  her 
gets  out  of  the  way.  She  ought  to  be  called  the  Flight-inspir- 
ing Cypris." 

Titianus  had  scarcely  recovered  from  the  excitement  of  the 


THE   EMPEROR.  57 

recent  assembly  when  he  entered  the  presence  of  the  empress, 
whom  he  found  in  a  small  apartment  with  only  her  chamber- 
lain and  a  few  serving  women. 

To  the  respectful  inquiry  of  the  prefect  as  to  how  she  found 
herself,  she  replied,  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders: 

"  How  shall  I  answer?  If  I  say  well  I  should  be  telling  an 
untruth;  if  I  say  ill  I  shall  be  surrouded  by  long  faces,  which 
are  never  agreeable.  One  must  endure  life.  But  just  look  at 
the  doors  in  these  rooms!  It  would  be  the  end  of  nie  to  stay 
here  long."  Titianus  looked  at  the  doors  in  surprise,  and 
was  about  to  express  regret  that  she  felt  annoyance,  but  Sabina 
prevented  him,  saying : 

"  Vou  men  never  understand  what  hurts  us  women.  Our 
Yerus  is  the  only  one  who  ever  appreciates  and  sympathizes; 
he  feels  intuitively,  I  may  say.  There  are  thirty-five  doors  in 
my  apartments;  I  had  them  counted!  Thirty-five!  If  they 
were  not  old  and  of  costly  wood  I  should  think  some  one 
meant  to  play  me  a  trick. ^' 

"  A  few  of  them  might  be  replaced  by  curtains." 

"  Let  them  alone.  It  is  only  a  few  plagues  more  or  less,  all 
through  my  life.  Are  the  Alexandrians  almost  through  with 
their  preparations?" 

"  I  hope  so,"  answered  Titianus,  sighing.  "  All  are  trying 
to  do  their  best;  but  in  the  strife  to  be  foremost  each  jostles 
the  other,  and  I,  who  stand  between  the  opposing  parties,  still 
feel  the  efiect  of  the  disputes  I  have  been  forced  to  hear  and  to 
settle." 

"  So?"  answered  Sabina,  her  lips  twitching  as  if  she  heard 
something  agreeable.  "  Tel]  me  about  this  assembly.  I  want 
amusement;  for  Verus,  Balbilla,  and  the  others  have  begged 
permission  to  go  and  see  the  works  on  the  Lochias.  I  am  ac- 
customed to  have  people  find  it  pleasanter  anywhere  else  than 
in  my  company.  My  fugitives  are  gone  a  long  time;  %iQ\e 
must  be  much  to  interest  them. " 

The  prefect  suppressed  the  annoyance  he  felt  in  thinking  of 
the  disturbance  their  presence  would  be  to  the  workmen,  and 
began,  in  a  mock-tragic  tone:  "The  first  dispute  arose  over 
the  arrangements  for  the  procession." 

"  Step  a  little  further  back,"  begged  Sabina,  pressing  a 
heavily  ringed  hand  over  her  ear,  as  if  in  pain.  The  cheeks  of 
the  prefect  reddened  slightly,  but  he  lowered  his  tone,  and  re- 
peated : 

"  Harmony  was  first  disturbed  over  the  procession." 

"  I  heard  that,"  answered  Sabina,  yawning.  "  I  am  very 
fond  of  processions." 


68  THE   EMPEROK. 

"  But,"  said  the  prefect,  a  man  just  entering  his  sixtieth 
year,  with  a  sh'ght  touch  of  irritation  in  his  tone,  "  it  is  hero 
as  at  Rome  and  everywhere  else;  wlien  such  arrangements  are 
not  under  the  absohite  control  of  one  person,  one  quarrel  be- 
gets anotlier,  even  over  the  celebration  of  a  peaceful  festival." 

"  It  seems  to  vex  you  that  they  seek  iu  this  way  to  honor 
Hadrian.", 

"  You  must  be  jesting.  I  have  sought  to  make  it  as  success- 
ful as  possible;  I  have  troubled  myself  personally,  even  with 
the  details,  and  have  had  the  satisfaction  of  harmonizing  the 
discord.     This  scarcely  belonged  to  my  office." 

"  I  thought  you  not  only  served  the  state,  but  were  a  friend 
of  my  husband." 

"  That  I  am  j^roud  to  call  myself." 

"  Yes,  Hadrian  has  many,  very  many  friends,  since  he  wore 
the  purple.  Have  you  got  over  your  ill-humor?  Y'ou  must 
have  grown  very  irritable,  Titiauus;  the  poor  Julia  has  an  un- 
comfortable husband." 

"  She  is  less  to  be  pitied  than  you  think,"  answered  Titianus, 
with  dignity,  "  for  my  office  occupies  me  so  closely  that  she 
seldom  has  oj^portunity  to  see  me  disturbed.  If  I  have  failed 
to  hide  my  annoyance  from  you,  I  beg  you  to  consider  that  it 
has  risen  from  zeal  to  render  Hadrian  a  worthy  reception." 

"  As  if  I  were  angry  with  you!  But  to  return  to  your  wife. 
Her  destiny,  I  hear,  is  like  my  own.  We  poor  women  have 
nothing  to  expect  from  our  husbands  but  the  fragments  after 
all  others  are  served.     But  to  your  description!" 

"  The  worst  difference  was  over  the  unfortunate  relations  of 
the  Jews  to  their  fellow-citizens. " 

"  I  hate  these  atrocious  sects — Jew,  Christian,  or  whatever 
they  may  be  called.  Do  they  hesitate  to  take  their  share  in 
the  reception  of  the  emperor?" 

"Quite  the  contrary.  Alabarchos,  their  wealthy  chief, 
ordered  them  to  bear  the  entire  cost  of  the  naumachy,  and  his 
fellow  in  the  faith,  Artemion — " 

"  What?     Will  any  one  accept  their  money?" 

"  The  heathen  citizens  are  fully  able  to  bear  all  the  expense, 
which  will  amount  to  many  millions  of  sestej-ces,  and  only  wish 
to  prevent  the  Jews  from  taking  part  in  the  processions  and 
games. " 

"They  are  right." 

"  Allow  me  to  ask  if  it  be  fair  to  forbid  half  the  Alexan- 
drians to  show  honor  to  their  emperor?" 

''  Hadrian  will  be  glad  to  escape  lliat  lioiior.  To  be  called 
'  African/  '  German,    '  Dacian,'  adds  glory  to  our  conquests, 


THE   EMPEROR.  59 

but  after  LLe  destruction  of  Jerusalem,  Titus  forbade  any  one 
to  call  him  '  Judean. '  " 

"  That  was  because  he  wished  to  blot  out  all  memory  of  the 
frightful  slaughter  consequent  upon  their  steady  resistance. 
The  conquered  peoi^le  let  finger  from  finger,  limb  from  hmb 
be  hacked  away  before  they  would  yield." 

"  You  sjieak  again  like  a  romancer.  Or  have  these  people 
made  you  their  advocate?" 

"  I  know  them,  and  seek  to  do  them,  as  well  as  all  other 
citizens  of  tliis  land,  justice.  They  pay  their  taxes  as  promptly 
as  the  other  citizens,  and  the  amount  is  greater,  for  there  are 
many  rich  men  among  them,  and  they  are  distinguished  in  all 
the  trades  and  professions,  in  science,  and  in  the  arts.  I 
measure  them  by  the  same  rule  as  the  others,  and  their  super- 
stition affects  me  no  more  than  that  of  the  Egyptians. " 

"  But  they  have  overstepped  that  rule.  They  refused  to 
sacrifice  to  Jupiter  and  Hera  in  ^lia  Capitolina,  the  city 
which  Hadrian  built.  That  means  they  refuse  loyalty  to  me 
and  to  my  husband." 

"  It  is  forbidden  them  to  worship  any  other  than  their  own 
God.  ^lia  was  built  on  the  site  of  their  destroyed  Jerusalem, 
and  the  statues  of  which  you  sjDeak  stand  in  their  holiest 
places. " 

"What  is  that  tons?'* 

"  You  kuow  even  Caius  could  not  force  them  to  set  up  his 
statue  in  their  Holy  of  Holies.  The  governor,  Tetronius,  con- 
fessed that  to  constrain  was  to  exterminate  them." 

' '  80  let  hajjpen  to  them  what  they  deserve,  which  is  an- 
nihilation," cried  Sabina. 

"  Annihilate?"  asked  the  prefect.  "  In  Alexandria  alone, 
almost  half  the  citizens — that  is,  several  hundred  thousand  of 
obedient  subjects — annihilate?" 

"  So  many!"  exclaimed  the  empress,  frightened.  "  That  is 
horrible — great  gods,  if  this  man  should  rise  against  us!" 

"  No  one  has  told  me  of  this  danger." 

"  In  Cyrenia  and  Salamis,  on  the  Island  of  Cyprus,  they 
have  murdered  ten  thousand  of  their  fellow-citizens. " 

"  They  were  tej-ribly  incensed,  and  were  more  powerful  than 
their  oppressors. " 

"  In  their  own  land,  there  has  been  sedition  after  sedition.  ■* 

"  On  account  of  the  sacrifices  of  which  we  were  speaking." 

"  Tianius  Rufus  is  now  legate  in  Palestine,  and  ho  is  not  a 
man  to  be  trilled  with.  He  will  know  how  to  tame  this 
dangerous  brood. " 

"  Perhaps  so,"  answered  Titianus;  "  but  I  fear  he  will  never 


60  TUK  EMPEROR. 

reach  liis  end  through  brutality,  and  if  he  should,  the  lorovlnce 
will  have  been  depopulated/' 

"  That  only  j^roves  there  are  too  many  subjects  in  a  prov- 
ince." 

"  But  never  enough  useful  citizens.'' 

"  Seditious  despisers  of  the  gods,  and  useful  citizens!" 

"  Here  in  Alexandria,  where  many  of  them  have  adopted 
the  customs  and  manner  of  thought  of  the  Greeks,  and  use 
their  language,  they  are  among  the  most  loyal  subjects  of  the 
emperor. " 

Do  they  share  in  the  festivities?" 

"  So  far  as  the  Greek  citizens  permit." 

"  And  the  naumachy?" 

"  It  will  not  devolve  upon  them;  but  Artemion  was  allowed 
to  provide  wild  animals  for  the  amphitheater." 
And  he  is  not  avaricious?" 

"  You  would  be  astonished  to  learn  how  little.  The  man 
must  have  the  art  of  Midas  to  change  stones  into  gold. " 

"  Are  there  many  such  among  your  Jews?" 

"  A  goodly  number." 

"  Then  I  wish  they  might  revolt,  and  the  people  themselves 
be  destroyed,  while  the  gold  would  remain." 

"  Meanwhile,  I  seek  to  preserve  their  lives,  as  good  tax- 
payers. " 

"  Does  Hadrian  share  this  wish?" 

"  Without  doubt. " 

"  Your  successor  may  perhaps  teach  him  other  ideas." 

''  He  acts  always  according  to  his  own  judgment,  and  I  am 
still  in  office,"  said  Titianus,  proudly. 

"  May  the  God  of  the  Jews  long  preserve  you  there,"  re- 
torted Sabina,  with  scorn. 


CHAPTEE  Vri. 

Before  Titianus  could  reply  the  door  of  the  apartment 
opened,  and  the  Pretor  Lucius  Aurelius  Verus,  his  wife 
Domitia  Lucilla,  the  young  Balbilla,  and  Florus  the  historian 
entered.  The  four  were  much  excited,  and  wished  to  tell  the 
empress  at  once  Avhat  they  had  seen,  but  she  waved  them  off 
with  her  hand,  whispering: 

"  No,  no,  not  yet;  I  am  exhausted — this  long  absence,  and 
then — give  me  tlie  smelling  salts,  Verus.  Leukippe,  a  goblet 
of  water  with  fruit  syrup,  but  not  so  sweet  as  usual." 

The  Greek  slave  hastened  to^obey  her  order,  and  while  the 
empress  held  the  carved  onyx  vial  to  her  nose,  she  said: 


THE   EMPEROR.  61 

"  Is  it  not  a  small  eternity,  Titianus,  that  we  have  been  dis- 
cussing state  affairs?  You  all  know  that  I  am  outspoken, 
and  can  not  be  silent  when  I  hear  preposterous  views.  While 
you  were  absent  I  have  been  obliged  to  speak  and  to  hear  very 
much  which  has  robbed  me  of  streugth.  I  only  wonder  you 
do  not  find  me  in  worse  condition.  Since  what  can  be  more 
exhausting  to  a  woman  than  to  maintain  herself  with  firmness 
against  a  man  who  advocates  opposite  opinions.  Give  me  the 
drink,  Leukippe.^' 

While  the  empress  was  sipping  the  contents  of  her  glass 
Verus  apjDroached  the  prefect,  and  asked  in  a  whisper: 

"  Have  you  been  long  alone  with  Sabina,  my  cousin?" 

"  Yes,^^  answered  Titianus,  biting  his  lip  and  grinding  his 
teeth,  and  doubling  his  fist  in  a  manner  the  pretor  could  not 
fail  to  understand,  who  said  in  a  low  tone : 

"  It  is  a  great  pity;  and  just  now  she  has  hours — " 

"  What  are  you  saying  of  hours?"  asked  Sabina,  taking  the 
cup  from  her  lips. 

"Those,"  answered  Verus,  "in  which  I  am  not  troubled 
by  any  business  of  senate  or  of  state.  Who  but  you  can  I 
thank  for  this?" 

With  these  words  he  came  nearer,  took  the  empty  cup  from 
her  hand  and  passed  it  to  the  Greek,  with  the  manner  of  an 
affectionately  devoted  son  toward  a  suffering  mother.  The 
empress  nodded  to  him  several  times,  in  token  of  her  grati- 
tude, and  asked,  with  an  influx  of  cheerfulness  in  her  tone: 

"  Well,  what  did  you  find  on  the  Lochias?" 

"  Wonderful  things,"  exclaimed  Balbilla,  clapping  her 
hands.  "  The  old  palace  is  a  veritable  swarm  of  bees,  or  an 
ant  heap.  White,  brown,  and  black  arms — more  than  we 
could  count,  vied  with  each  other  in  activity.  The  hundreds 
of  workmen  nowhere  seemed  to  be  in  each  other's  way.  And 
as  the  stars,  guided  in  their  course  by  the  wisdom  of  the  gods, 
have  their  paths  through  the  '  gracious  night '  without  inter- 
ference, so  all  this  host  was  guided  by  one  small  man." 

"  I  must  interpose  in  behalf  of  the  architect,  Pontius.  He 
is  certainly  a  man  of  ordinary  stature." 

"Then,  we  will  say,  to  satisfy  your  sense  of  justice,"  re- 
turned Balbilla,  "  this  host  was  guided  by  an  ordinary  sized 
man  with  a  papyrus  roll  in  his  right  hand,  and  a  pencil  in  the 
left.     Does  that  description  suit  you  better?" 

"  You  can  never  fail  to  please  me,"  answered  the  pretor. 

"  Let  Balbilla  go  on,"  commanded  the  empress. 

*' We  have  seen   chaos,"  said    Balbilla;    "but  there  are 


62  THE   EMPEROU. 

glimpses  of  an  orderly  creation  discernible  through  the  present 
confusion.     It  is  visible  to  the  e5'es.'^ 

"  And  occasionally  manifested  to  the  feet/'  added  Verus, 
laughing.  "  Had  it  been  dark,  and  the  workmen  worms,  we 
might  have  crushed  half  of  them,  they  so  swarmed  over  the 
pavement." 

"  All  sorts  of  things,"  said  Balbilla,  quickly.  "  Some  were 
polishing  spots  that  had  become  damaged;  others  laid  new 
pieces  of  mosaic  in  the  empty  beds,  out  of  which  the  originals 
had  been  stolen;  and  skillful  artists  painted  bright  figures  on 
plaster  surfaces.  Every  statue  and  column  was  surrounded 
by  a  scaffolding  that  reached  to  the  roof,  and  on  them  all  men 
were  climbing,  who  jostled  each  other,  hke  the  sailors  who 
climb  the  hostile  ship  in  a  sham  fight  on  the  water. " 

The  cheeks  of  the  handsome  ghl  were  flushed  with  memory 
of  the  lively  scene,  and  while  she  spoke  and  gesticulated  the 
lofty  structure  upon  her  head  trembled. 

"  Your  descrii^tion  begins  to  be  poetic,"  broke  in  the  em- 
press. "  Perhaj)s  the  muse  will  inspire  you  to  put  it  into 
rhyme." 

"  All  the  nine  are  on  the  Lochias,"  said  the  j^retor.  "  We 
saw  eight;  but  the  ninth — she  M'ho  protects  star-gazers  and 
the  fine  arts — the  lofty  Urania — had  in  place  of  a  head — per- 
mit me  to  ask  you  to  guess  what — godlike  Sabina?" 

"  Well?" 

*'  A  wisp  of  straw." 

"  Alas,"  sighed  the  empress.  "  Do  you  think,  Florus,  any 
of  the  learned  men,  or  the  versifiers,  have  ever  resembled  this 
Urania?" 

"At  any  rate,"  answered  Florus,  "we  are  more  careful 
than  the  gods  to  hide  the  contents  of  our  heads  with  a  thick 
skull,  and  with  more  or  less  hair." 

"  That  sounds  almost,"  said  Balbilla,  pointuig  to  her  own 
thick  curls,  "as  if  I  had  special  need  to  cover  what  is  hidden 
beneath  my  hair." 

"  Tlie  Lesbian  swan  was  also  called  *  she  of  the  beautiful 
locks,' "  answered  Florus. 

"  And  you  are  our  Sappho,"  said  the  pretor's  wife,  pressing 
the  arm  of  the  girl  to  her  breast. 

"  Honestly,  will  you  put  into  verse  what  you  have  seen  to- 
day?" asked  the  empress. 

Balbilla  looked  at  the  floor,  and  then  answered  brightly: 

"  It  is  natural  for  me  to  express  all  the  peculiar  things  I 
meet  in  rhyme.     It  would  delight  me  to  do  this.^' 

"  But  follow  the  coimsel  of  the  grammarian  Apollonius. 


THE    EMPEROR.  63 

Since  you  are  the  Sappho  of  our  time  5^ou  ought  to  write,  not 
in  the  Attic-Greek,  but  in  the  old  iEolian  dialect." 

Verus  laughed.  The  empress,  whose  diaphragm  did  not  act 
vigorously,  tittered,  but  Balbilla  answered  in  a  lively  manner: 

"  Do  you  believe  I  should  not  succeed  in  such  an  attempt? 
To-morrow  I  will  begin  to  study  the  ^olian  dialect." 

"  Let  that  go.  Your  simpler  songs  have  always  been  the 
best,"  said  Domitia  Lucilla. 

"  You  shall  not  laugh  at  me,"  said  Balbilla,  willfully.  "  In 
a  few  weeks  I  shall  know  how  to  use  that  dialect,  for  I  can  do 
all  I  attempt — yes,  all." 

"What  a  stubijorn  head  is  hidden  under  those  curling 
locks,"  exclaimed  the  empress,  graciously  threatening  with 
uplifted  finger. 

"  And  what  power  of  comprehension,"  added  Floras. 
"  Your  teacher  in  grammar  and  meter  told  me  that  his  best 
pupil  was  a  woman  of  noble  descent,  and  a  poetess  besides — in 
fact,  Balbilla." 

The  girl  blushed  at  these  words,  and  asked,  in  a  transport 
of  joy: 

"  Do  you  flatter,  or  has  Hephastion  really  said  that?" 

"  Alas,"  cried  the  pretor,  '*  Hephastion  was  also  my  tutor, 
and  I  must  take  my  place  beloM'  Balbilla.  But  it  is  nothing 
new  to  me,  for  the  Alexandrian  said  the  same  thing;  and  I  am 
not  vain  enough  of  my  verses  to  dispute  his  verdict." 

"  You  follow  different  models,"  said  Floras.  "  Ovid  is 
your  pattern,  Sappho  hers.  Your  style  is  Latin,  hers  is  Greek. 
Do  you  always  carry  the  love  songs  of  Ovid." 

"  Always,"  answered  Verus,  "  as  Alexander  his  Homer." 

"  And  out  of  respect  to  the  master  your  husband  tries  to 
adapt  himself  to  those  precepts,  under  the  protection  of 
Venus,"  added  the  empress,  turning  toward  Domitia  Lucilla. 

The  slender  and  elegant  woman  answered  only  by  a  hght 
shrug  of  the  shoulders  this  not  very  friendly  remark,  but 
Verus  said,  as  he  stooped  to  gather  up  the  sliken  cover  and 
spread  it  again  over  her  limbs. 

"My  best  fortune  is  in  the  favor  of  the  '  Verus  Victrix.  •* 
But  we  are  not  yet  at  the  end  of  our  story;  our  Lesbian  swan 
met  another  bird  on  the  Lochias,  in  the  person  of  a  pastio 
artist." 

"  How  long  since  birds  have  been  reckoned  among  the 
sculptors?"  asked  Sabina.  "  At  the  highest  they  might  be 
likened  to  woodpeckers. " 

"  When  they  work  in  wood,"  laughed  Verus;  *'  but  our 
artist  is  an  assistant  of  Papias,  and  handles  noble  stuff  in  good 


64  THE    EMPEROR. 

style.  This  time  certainly  he  has  gathered  remarkable  ma- 
terials for  his  statue." 

"  Verus  has  certainly  given  a  good  name  to  our  new  ac- 
quaintance/' broke  in  Balbilla,  "  because  he  was  whistling  a 
song  so  loud  and  clear  as  we  ai^proached  the  inclosure  behind 
which  he  was  at  work  that  the  sound  ran  through  the  wide, 
empty  hall.  A  nightingale  could  not  have  done  better.  We 
stood  still  and  listened  until  the  merry  fellow,  who  was  utterly 
unconscious  of  our  presence,  had  finished;  and  when  he  heard 
the  architect's  voice  he  called  out,  '  Now  Urania  must  have 
her  head;  I  had  an  idea  of  it,  and  with  three  dozen  strokes 
could  have  finished  it,  but  Papias  said  he  had  one  at  the  shop. 
I  am  curious  about  the  honey-sweet  face  he  may  please  to  set 
upon  my  Torso  by  the  day  after  to-morrow.  Send  me  a  good 
model  for  the  bust  of  Sappho,  which  I  have  undertaken  to  re- 
place. I  am  haunted  by  a  thousand  gobhns  of  ideas,  and  am 
so  excited.     What  will  become  of  my  work?'  " 

Balbilla  had  attempted  to  imitate  the  deep  voice  of  a  man 
in  repeating  these  words,  and  when  she  saw  that  the  empress 
was  amused,  went  on  in  her  lively  way: 

"  All  this  came  so  fresh  and  so  merry  right  out  of  his  heart 
that  it  did  me  good.  We  all  went  up  to  the  screen  and  tried 
to  persuade  the  sculptor  to  show  us  his  work. " 

"  And  you  found — ?"  asked  Sabina. 

"  He  positively  refused  to  break  through  his  hedge,  ^'  an- 
swered the  prefect;  "  but  Balbilla  coaxed  it  out  of  him.  And 
really  the  tall  fellow  does  know  something.  The  drapery  was 
wonderfully  expressive,  rich,  and  of  remarkable  delicacy. 
Urania  holds  the  mantle  firmly  about  herself  as  if  really  using 
it  for  protection  against  the  cool  night  air,  while  gazing  at  the 
stars.  When  he  has  finished  this  muse  he  has  some  other 
statues  to  repair.  We  saw  a  head  he  was  to  place  to-day  on  a 
Berenice;  and  for  the  SaiDjDho  I  suggested  Balbilla  as  a 
model." 

"  A  good  idea,"  said  Sabina.  "  If  the  bust  prove  to  be  a 
success,  we  will  take  it  to  Rome." 

"  I  will  gladly  sit  to  him,"  said  Balbilla;  "  the  hearty  fellow 
pleases  me. " 

"  And  Balbilla  pleases  him,"  added  the  pretor's  wife.  "  He 
gazed  at  her  in  astonishment,  and  she  promised  to  sit  three 
hours  for  him  to-morrow,  if  you  would  allow  it." 

"  He  begins  with  the  head,"  broke  in  Verus.  "  What  a 
fortunate  fellow  is  an  artisti  She  let  him  turn  her  head,  and 
arrange  the  folds  of  her  ]K'i)lum,  and  scarcely  guarded  her 
own  garments  from  the  splashes  of  gypsum  and  colored  paint. 


THE    EMPEROR.  66 

while  I,  who  would  so  gladly  have  assisted,  was  never  once 
allowed  to  lift  her  over  the  very  worst  places." 

Balbilla  blushed,  and  said,  a  little  irritated,  "  Eeally,  Verus, 
I  can  not  allow  you  to  speak  so  with  me,  and  that  you  must 
understand  once  for  all,  it  is  not  difficult  for  me  to  avoid 
muddy  spots  without  any  assistance." 

"  You  are  too  strict,"  interrupted  the  empress,  with  an  un- 
pleasant laugh.  "  Ought  she  not,  Domitia  Lucilla,  to  give 
your  husband  the  right  to  be  serviceable?" 

"  If  the  empress  considers  it  consistent  with  propriety,"  an- 
swered the  lady  addressed,  shrugging  her  shoulders  and  with 
a  significant  motion  of  the  hands.  Sabina  understood  her 
meaning  and  said,  while  suppressing  a  yawn : 

"  In  our  day  one  must  be  indulgent  toward  a  husband  who 
has  chosen  the  love  songs  of  Ovid  for  his  intimate  companion." 

"  What  has  happened,  Titianus?" 

While  Balbilla  was  relating  her  interview  with  the  sculptor 
Pollux,  a  letter  requiring  immediate  attention  had  been  brought 
by  a  chamberlain  to  the  prefect.  He  retired  to  another  part 
of  the  room,  broke  the  seal,  and  had  just  finished  reading  it, 
when  met  by  the  question  of  the  empress.  Sabina^'s  small  eyes 
saw  everything  that  hajpeued  in  her  neighborhood,  and  she 
had  noticed  that  while  reading  the  prefect  moved  uneasily. 
Therefore  it  contained  something  important. 

"  A  pressing  letter,"  he  answered,  "  calls  me  back  to  the 
prefecture.  I  must  say  farewell,  and  hope  soon  to  be  able  to 
bring  you  agreeable  tidings. " 

"  What  is  in  your  letter?" 

"  Important  news  from  the  province." 

"  May  I  ask  particularly?" 

"  I  am  sorry  that  I  can  not  answer  your  question.  The 
emperor  expressly  commands  me  to  keep  the  matter  secret. 
His  dispatch  requires  immediate  attention,  and  I  am  forced  to 
take  my  leave  at  once. " 

Sabina  returned  his  parting  salutation  with  icy  coldness,  and 
had  herself  at  once  conducted  to  an  inner  apartment  to  be 
dressed  for  the  evening  meal.  Balbilla  accompanied  her. 
Florus  betook  himself  to  the  "  Olympian  table,"  the  excellent 
eating-house  of  Lykortas,  of  whom  the  Koman  epicure  had  re- 
lated marvels. 

When  Verus  was  left  alone  with  his  wife  he  approached  her, 
asking  in  a  friendly  manner: 

"  Shall  I  escort  you  to  your  dwelling?" 

Domitia  had  flung  herself  upon  a  cushion,  and,  with  her 
face  covered  by  both  hands,  gave  no  answer. 


66  THE    EMPKROR. 

"  Will  you  go  now?"  repeated  the  pretor.  As  she  still 
maintained  silence  he  stepped  nearer,  laid  his  hand  upon  her 
shapely  fingers,  and  said: 

*   I  believe  you  are  angry  with  m.e." 

She  pushed  his  hand  lightly  away,  saying: 

"  Let  me  alone." 

"  I  am  sorry  that  I  must  do  that,"  sighed  Verus.  "  Business 
calls  me  into  the  city,  and  I  shall — " 

''  And  you  will  go  to  search  for  new  beauties  among  the 
Alexandrians,  Avho  so  bewitched  you  last  evening.  I  knew 
that." 

*'  There  are  here  w^omen  of  unusual  grace,"  answered  Verus, 
composedly:  "  white,  brown,  copper-colored,  black — all  charm- 
ing in  their  own  way.     One  is  never  weary  of  admiring  them." 

"  And  your  wife?"  asked  Lucilla,  taking  a  jjosition  opposite 
to  him. 

"  My  wife?  Truly,  my  fairest,  wife  is  an  honorable  title, 
and  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  frivolities  of  life.  How  could 
I  pronounce  your  name  in  the  same  hour  with  that  of  these 
poor  children,  who  only  serve  to  amuse  an  idle  hour?" 

Domitia  Lucilla  was  accustomed  to  hear  such  words,  but 
this  time  they  seemed  to  hurt  her.  But  she  concealed  the 
pain,  and,  crossing  her  arms,  spoke  with  decision  and  dignity. 

"  Go  on  to  the  end  with  Ovid  and  the  love-gods  if  you 
choose,  but  do  not  attempt  to  crush  another  innocent  under 
your  wheels." 

''  L>o  you  mean  Balbilla?"  asked  Verus,  laughing.  "  She 
knows  very  well  how  to  take  care  of  herself,  and  has  quite  too 
much  spirit  to  be  caught  in  the  toils  of  Eros.  That  little  son 
of  Venus  does  not  interfere  with  such  good  friendship  as  ours. " 

"  Dare  I  believe  you?" 

"  My  word  upon  it.  I  want  nothing  from  her  but  pleasant 
words,"  said  he,  extending. his  hand  toward  his  wife.  Lucilla 
only  touched  it  lightly,  and  then  said: 

"  Send  me  back  to  Rome.  I  long  more  than  I  can  tell  you 
in  words  after  my  children,  especially  our  boj. " 

"  It  can  not  he,"  said  Verus,  earnestly.  "  Not  now,  but, 
I  hope,  in  a  few  weeks." 

"  Why  not  earlier?" 

"  Do  not  ask  me." 

"  A  mother  has  the  right  to  know  why  she  is  separated  from 
her  son  in  his  cradle." 

"  That  cradle  stands  in  the  house  of  your  mother,  and  she 
cares  for  our  little  one.     Have  patience  then,  for  that  I  am 


THE   EMPEROR.  67 

seeking  to  gain  for  you  and  for  myself,  and  no  less  for  oiir  son, 
is  so  great  that  it  might  silence  years  of  longing. " 

The  last  words  were  spoken  lightly,  yet  with  a  dignity  seen 
in  him  only  at  rare  moments.  Lucilla  seized  his  right  hand, 
before  he  was  through  speaking,  in  both  hers,  and  asked, 
anxiously: 

"  Do  you  seek  the  purple?'* 

He  nodded  affirmatively. 

"  Is  it  for  that  reason?"' 

"What?"' 

"  Sabina  and  you — " 

"  Not  alone  for  that.  She  is  hard  and  sharp  toward  others, 
but  even  as  a  boy  she  only  showed  me  kindness.'' 

"  She  hates  me." 

"  Patience,  Lucilla;  have  patience.  There  will  come  a  day 
when  the  daughter  of  Nigrinus  will  be  wife  of  the  Caesar,  and 
the  former  em23ress —  But  I  will  not  say  that  aloud.  I  am, 
as  you  know,  under  great  obligations  to  Sabina,  and  honestly 
wish  the  emperor  a  long  life. " 

"  And  the  adoption?'" 

''  Hush!     He  is  tliinking  of  it,  and  his  wife  desires  it." 

*'  Can  it  perhaps  come  soon?" 

■'  Who  can  tell  at  this  moment  what  the  emj)eror  may  do 
within  an  hour;  but  perhaps  the  decision  may  be  made  on  the 
thirtieth  of  December. ' ' 

"  On  your  birthday?" 

"  He  asked  for  that  day,  and  is  casting  my  horoscope." 

"  Then  will  the  stars  decide  our  fate?" 

"  Not  the  stars  alone.  Hadrian  must  also  be  persuaded  to 
interpret  it  in  my  favor." 

"  How  can  I  help  you?" 

"  Show  yourself  exactly  as  you  are  in  all  intercourse  with 
the  emperor." 

"  Thank  you  for  these  words,  and  I  will  not  ask  to  leave 
you.  Might  it  be  more  than  a  mere  post  of  honor  to  be  the 
wife  of  Verus,  I  would  not  wish  for  the  added  dignity  of  wife 
to  a  Caesar. " 

"  I  will  not  go  to  the  city  this  evening,  but  stay  with  you. 
Are  you  contented?" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  cried,  and  raised  her  arms  to  throw  them 
about  the  neck  of  her  handsome  husband,  but  he  held  them 
back,  and  said: 

"  Let  that  pass.  To  play  lover  will  help  nothing  toward 
gaining  the  purple. " 


"68  THE    I'MPKROR. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

TiTiANUS  commanded  his  charioteer  to  drive  to  the  Lochias. 
As  the  road  thither  jiassed  his  own  palace  he  ordered  a  halt; 
for  the  letter  hidden  in  the  folds  of  his  toga  contained  news 
which  would  probably  prevent  his  return  home  before  the  fol- 
lowing morning.  "Witliout  delaying  to  listen  to  the  various 
persons  waiting  for  him  with  messages  or  petitions,  or  to  re- 
ceive orders,  he  passed  quickly  through  the  crowd  toward  the 
apartments  of  his  wife.  She  met  him  on  the  way,  for  she  had 
heard  his  footstep,  and  hastened  toward  him. 

"  I  was  not  deceived,"  she  said,  with  hearty  accent.  "  How 
delightful  that  you  could  get  away  earlier  than  usual!  I  did 
not  expect  you  before  the  end  of  the  evening  meal."' 

"  I  have  come  only  to  go  again,"  answered  Titianus,  enter- 
ing the  room.  "  Please  send  for  a  piece  of  bread  and  a  cup  of 
mixed  wine.  But  there  stands  already  Mhat  I  need.  Yes,  you 
are  right;  I  was  not  so  long  as  usual  with  Sabina,  but  she  con- 
trived to  put  as  many  disagreeable  words  into  the  interview  as 
if  we  had  been  half  a  day  together.  In  five  minutes  I  must 
leave  you  to  return — only  the  gods  know  when.  It  is  hard  to 
say  it,  but  all  our  trouble,  and  pains,  and  haste,  and  the  care- 
ful labor  of  the  jDoor  Pontius,  are  in  vain." 

With  these  words  the  prefect  threw  himself  upon  a  cushion, 
and  his  wife  brought  the  refreshment  for  which  he  had  asked, 
saying,  as  she  passed  her  hand  over  his  hair: 

"Poor  man!  Has  Hadrian  concluded,  after  all,  to  go  to 
the  Capsareum?" 

"  No.  Leave  us,  Syra.  You  shall  see.  Please  let  me  hear 
again  this  letter  from  the  emperor." 

Julia,  the  wife  of  Titianus,  unrolled  the  papyrus  and  read : 

"  Hadrian,  to  his  friend  Titianus,  Governor  of  Egypt.  Pro- 
found secrecy: — Hadrian  greets  Titianus,  as  he  for  years  has  so 
often  done,  at  the  beginning  of  a  business  dispatch,  with  only 
half  a  lieart.  But  to-morrow  he  hopes  to  greet  this  dear 
friend  of  his  youth,  and  his  present  wise  deputy,  not  only  with 
"whole  soul,  but  also  with  hand  and  mouth. 

"  But  to  speak  plainer:  I  shall  be  in  Alexandria  to-morrow, 
the  15th  December,  with  only  Antinous,  my  slave-master,  and 
Phlegon.  the  private  secretary.  AVe  shall  fand  in  a  little  har- 
bor on  the  Lochias,  toward  evening,  and  my  vessel  will  be 
known  by  a  great  silver  star  on  the  beak.     Should,  "it  be  dark 


THE  EMPEROR.  G9 

before  we  arrive  you  will  know  by  tbe  three  red  lanterns  at 
the  top  of  the  mast  what  friend  is  approaching. 

"  The  learned  men  you  sent  to  entertain  me,  and  get  more 
time  to  put  the  old  nest  in  order,  where  I  have  been  longing 
to  roost  with  the  birds  of  Minerva,  and  who  I  hope  are  not 
yet  all  driven  away,  1  have  sent  home,  that  Sabina  may  not 
fail  of  entertainment,  or  these  distinguished  men  be  not  too 
long  interrupted  in  their  work. 

"  I  do  not  need  them.  If,  perchance,  you  are  not  the  per- 
son who  sent  them,  1  beg  pardon.  An  error  in  such  cases 
carries  something  of  humiliation;  but  it  is  easier  to  explain 
what  has  already  happened  than  to  represent  adequately  what 
is  expected  in  the  future. 

"  I  will  gladly  compensate  these  clever  men  for  their  useless 
journey,  and  dispute  this  question  with  them  and  their  asso- 
ciates in  the  museum.  The  grammarian,  whose  learning 
stands  out  at  the  tip  of  every  hair,  and  who  sits  still  much 
more  than  is  good  for  him,  will  have  had  his  life  lengthened 
by  the  trip. 

"  We  shall  come  in  jDlain  clothes,  and  will  sleep  on  the 
Lochias.  You  know  that  I  have  rested  more  than  once  on 
the  bare  ground,  and  when  it  is  necessary  can  sleep  as  well  on 
a  mat  as  a  bolster.  I  bring  my  pillow.  This  is  my  great 
Molossian,  whom  you  already  know.  There  will  be  some  little 
room,  where  I  can  make  observations  for  the  coming  year 
without  disturbance.  I  trust  you  to  guard  my  secret;  and 
beg,  as  only  friend  and  emperor  may,  that  literally  no  one 
shall  know  my  plans.  Also,  not  the  slightest  prejDaration  shall 
disclose  whom  you  expect.  I  can  not  command  my  dear 
Titianus,  but  appeal  to  his  heart  to  fulfill  my  wish.  I  rejoice 
in  the  thought  of  seeing  you  again,  and  amuse  myself  with  the 
confusion  I  shall  find  on  the  Lochias.  You  shall  introduce  me 
to  the  artists  (of  whom  there  are  doubtless  a  swarm  at  present) 
as  the  architect  Claudius  Venator,  from  Eome,  come  to  assist 
Pontius  by  his  counsel.  This  Pontius,  who  planned  such  fine 
buildings  for  Herodes  Atticus,  I  have  met  at  the  dwelling  of 
the  wealthy  sophist,  and  he  will  certainly  recognize  me. 
Share  your  knowledge  of  my  plans  with  him.  He  is  a  reliable 
man,  no  gossip  or  any  simpleton,  who  will  forget  himself. 
Let  him  into  the  secret,  but  not  until  my  ship  is  in  sight. 
May  all  go  well  with  you.  ^' 

"  Now,  what  do  you  say  to  that?"  asked  Titianus,  as  he  took 
the  letter  from  her  hand.  "Is  it  not  more  than  vexatious? 
Our  work  was  progressing  so  finely.^' 


70  TlIK    I:MI'KK01{. 

"  ]^nt."  answcml  Julia,  Avith  a  shrewd  smile,  "  it  niiglit 
not  have  been  liuished.  As  things  now  stand,  that  is  no  mat- 
ter, Hadrian  will  ai)i)reciate  the  good-will.  I  am  rather  glad 
of  it,  for  it  lifts  a  heavy  responsibility  from  already  over- 
burdened shoulders. " 

"  You  always  see  the  right,''  cried  the  jjrefect;  "  I  am  glad 
I  came  in,  for  now  I  shall  expect  the  emperor  with  much 
lighter  heart.  Let  me  lock  up  this  letter,  and  then  good-bye. 
This  absence  may  cost  you  more  hours  of  loneliness,  and  me 
many  a  day's  rest." 

Titianus  extended  his  hand,  which  his  wife  held  fast  in  both 
her  own,  saying: 

"  Before  you  go,  I  want  to  say  that  I  feel  very  proud.'' 

"  That  is  your  right. " 

"  You  have  not  bound  me  to  silence  by  a  single  word. " 

"  Because  you  have  been  tested.  Still  you  are  a  woman, 
and  a  handsome  one. " 

"  An  old  grandmother,  with  whitening  hair." 

"  And  yet,  statelier  and  more  graceful  than  many  yonnger 
who  are  much  admired. " 

"  You  will  constrain  me  in  my  old  age  to  exchange  pride 
for  vanity." 

"  Xotni  the  least.  I  have  been  looking  at  you  with  crit- 
ical eyes,  and  thinking  of  Sabina's  lament  over  the  handsome 
Julia.'  But  where  is  there  another  woman  of  j'our  age  with  a 
prouder  bearing  or  more  faultless  features.  So  clear  a  fore- 
head, such  deej?,  kind  e3'es,  such  well-shaped  arms — " 

"  Hush!"  cried  Juha,  "  you  make  me  blush." 

"  May  I  not  rejoice  that  this  grandmother  from  Eome,  who 
is  my  wife,  can  blush  so  easily?  You  are  quite  different  from 
the  other  women. " 

"  Because  you  are  so  unlike  ordinary  men." 

"  Flatterer!  Since  the  children  are  all  gone  we  seem  again 
just  married." 

"  There  is  no  apple  of  discord  in  this  house." 

"  For  the  dearest,  it  is  above  all  things  most  natural  to  be 
zealous.     But  once  more  I  must  say  good-bye." 

Titianus  kissed  the  forehead  of  his  wife  and  hastened  to  the 
door;  but  Julia  called  him  back  to  say: 

"  I  send  daily  a  meal  to  Pontius.  Tliis  evening  the  supply 
shall  be  threefold.     I  can  do  so  much  for  the  emperor. " 

"  An  excellent  idea." 

"  Then  good-bye." 

*'A\'e  shall  meet  again,  when  the  gods  and  the  emperor 
2)ermit. " 


THE  EMPEKOR.  71 

******* 

When  the  prefect  arrived  at  the  spot  indicated  by  the  let- 
ter, there  was  no  vessel  in  sight  with  a  silver  star  on  the  beak- 
head.  The  sun  went  down,  and  still  nothing  was  to  be  seen 
of  the  three  red  lanterns.  The  harbor  master  in  whose 
house  Titianus  was  waiting  for  the  famous  architect  from 
Eome  coming  to  assist  Pontius  by  his  counsel,  saw  noth- 
ing uncalled  for  in  tliis  attention.  The  whole  city  knew  that 
the  old  Ptolemian  palace  was  being  put  in  order  for  the  em- 
peror, with  unexampled  haste  and  with  large  outlay  of  money. 

While  waiting,  Titianus  thought  of  the  young  sculptor,  Pol- 
lux, and  of  liis  mother  in  the  little  house  at  the  gate. 

Considerate  as  he  always  was,  a  messenger  was  dispatched 
to  ask  Doris  to  wait  his  coming  to  the  palace,  even  to  a  late 
hour.  "  xVdvise  her  on  your  own  account,  and  not  as  coming 
from  me,  to  have  her  house  lighted  and  in  good  order,  for 
perhaps  I  may  go  in." 

No  one  on  the  Lochias  had  any  suspicion  of  the  honor 
awaiting  the  old  palace.  After  Verus,  his  wife,  and  Balbilla 
had  left,  Pollux  worked  diligently  for  some  time,  then  coming 
out  of  his  cage  to  stretch  his  limbs,  he  called  to  Pontius,  who 
stood  near  a  scaffolding. 

"  I  must  either  rest  or  undertake  a  new  job.  One  is  just 
as  good  as  the  other.     Do  you  find  it  so?" 

'^  Always,"  answered  Pontius,  and  went  on  with  the  direc- 
tions he  was  giving  to  some  slaves,  who  were  placing  a  new 
capital  on  a  Corinthian  pillar. 

"  Do  not  disturb  yourself,"  said  Pollux.  "  But  I  want  to 
ask  you  to  say  to  my  master,  Papias,  if  he  come  in  with 
Gabinius,  the  dealer  in  relics,  that  he  will  find  me  on  the 
round  bastion,  which  we  insjDected  together  yesterday.  I  am 
going  to  i^lace  a  new  head  on  the  Berenice.  My  apprentice 
must  have  finished  the  preliminaries  some  time  ago;  but  the 
fellow  came  into  the  world  with  two  left  hands,  and  since  that 
throws  one  eye  out  of  place,  all  straight  things  appear  crooked, 
and,  according  to  the  laws  of  optics,  all  crooked  things  straight. 
He  has,  perhaps,  placed  the  wooden  support  for  the  new  head 
obliquely.  Since  no  historian  has  told  us  that  Berenice  carried 
her  head  to  one  side,  like  the  old  color-grinder  yonder,  I  must 
look  after  its  standing  straight.  In  half  an  •  hour  I  think  the 
clever  queen  can  no  longer  rank  among  the  headless  women." 

"  Where  did  you  get  the  new  head?"  asked  Pontius. 

"Out  of  the  secret  archives  of  memory," answered  Pollux; 
"  have  you  seen  it?" 

"Yes.'' 


72  THE   EMPEROE. 

"  Does  it  please  you?'* 

"  Very  much." 

"  Then  it  is  worthy  to  live,"  sung  Pollux.  As  he  left  the 
hall  he  nodded  to  the  architect,  and  stuck  a  pink  behind  his 
ear,  which  he  had  picked  that  morning  from  his  mother's 
garden  plot. 

He  found  that  the  apprentice  had  done  his  work  on  the 
bastion  better  than  he  feared,  but  Pollux  did  not  feel  satisfied 
with  his  own  arrangement.  As  the  busts  now  stood,  their 
backs  were  toward  the  balcony  of  the  overseer,  and  the  only 
reason  why  he  had  been  willing  to  resign  possession  of  this  be- 
loved head  was  to  give  pleasure  to  liis  old  playmate.  But  he 
found  that  it  was  only  their  own  weight  which  held  the  busts 
on  their  pedestals,  and  resolved  so  to  alter  the  arrangement  of 
all  that  his  favorite  might  occupy  the  desired  position. 

To  accomiDlish  this  he  called  a  few  slaves  to  assist  in  the 
exchange. 

The  unusual  echoes  waked  in  this  lonely  place  excited  the 
curiosity  of  one  pair  of  inquisitive  eyes,  that  had  already 
peeped  out  to  watch  the  work  of  the  apprentice,  but  retreated 
again  upon  seeing  the  bedaubed  workman. 

This  time  their  owner  stood  still,  observing  the  movements 
of  the  slaves  directed  by  Pollux.  He  stood,  at  first,  with  his 
back  toward  her,  but  in  j^laciug  the  bust  ujDon  its  pedestal, 
faced  the  balcony.  Immediately  a  clear  voice  cried  out: 
"Surely  that  is  the  tall  Pollux!  Oh,  how  glad  I  am!"  With 
these  words  the  girl  on  the  balcony  clapped  her  hands,  and  as 
the  sculptor  nodded  in  re23ly,  exclaiming:  "  And  you  are  the 
little  Arsinoe?  Everlasting  gods!  can  that  be  the  child?" 
raised  herself  on  tiptoe  to  appear  as  tall  as  possible,  and  said, 
as  she  returned  his  nod:  "  I  am  not  yet  fully  grown,  but  you 
are  wonderfully  dignified  with  the  beard  on  your  cliin,  and 
your  eagle  nose.  Selene  told  me  yesterday  you  were  working 
here  with  the  others." 

The  eye  of  the  artist  was  struck  by  the  appearance  of  the 
girl.  1'here  are  poetic  natures  whose  imagination  incorporates 
instantly  all  unusual  experiences  into  a  story  or  a  poem.  So 
Pollux  connected  every  beautiful  face  or  figure  he  chanced  to 
meet  Avith  his  special  art. 

"  A  Galatea,  a  perfect  Galatea!"  thought  he.  '*  One  might 
fancy  her  just  risen  out  of  the  sea,  so  fresh,  so  jo^-ous,  so  full 
of  life.  The  little  curls  on  her  forehead  seem  still  lloating  on 
the  water.  Now  she  beiids  over  for  the  greeting.  How  per- 
fect is  every  motion!  It  is  as  if  the  very  daughter  of  Nereus 
rose  and  sunk  witli  eaiOi  wave.     She  is  like  both  Selene  and 


THE   EMPEROR.  73 

her  mother  in  the  shape  of  her  head  and  the  Grecian  cut  of 
her  features;  but  the  elder  sister  is  hke  the  statue  of  Prome- 
theus before  it  was  possessed  of  a  soul.  And  Arsinoe  is  the 
same  masterjiiece  after  the  heavenly  fire  was  flowing  in  her 
veins. " 

During  the  few  seconds  occupied  by  these  thoughts  the  girl 
became  impatient  of  his  silence,  and  cried  out : 

"'  You  scarcely  answer  my  greeting.  What  are  you  doing 
there?" 

''  Look!"'  he  replied,  drawing  the  cover  from  the  bust. 

After  a  moment  of  silence  she  cried  loudly,  "  My  mother! 
my  mother!"  and  hastened  back  into  the  chamber. 

"  Now  she  will  call  her  father  and  spoil  all  Selene's  jjleas- 
ure, "  thought  Pollux,  while  he  moved  the  heavy  marble  into 
exact  position.  "But  let  him  come,  /command  here  now, 
and  Keraunus  will  not  dare  disturb  that  which  belongs  to  the 
emperor. "  He  stood  with  crossed  arms  before  the  bust,  and 
said  to  himself:  "  Patchwork,  pitiable  patchwork;  we  seem  to 
be  making  a  garment  for  the  emperor  of  rags  and  shreds;  to 
be  upholsterers  and  not  artists.  Were  it  not  for  Hadrian,  and 
for  Domitia,  with  her  children,  I  would  never  again  lift  a 
finger  for  this  kind  of  work." 

The  way  from  the  overseer's  dwelling  led  through  passages 
and  over  some  flights  of  stairs;  but  it  was  scarcely  a  moment 
after  Arsinoe  disappeared  from  the  balcony  before  she  stood 
beside  Pollux.  With  flushed  cheeks,  she  pressed  him  away 
from  his  position,  and  placed  herself  on  the  same  spot,  to  gaze 
at  the  beloved  features.  Tears  ran  down  over  her  cheeks. 
She  paid  no  heed  to  Pollux,  or  to  the  workmen  and  slaves, 
who  had  stared  as  she  hastened  past  them  like  a  spirit. 
Pollux  did  not  disturb  her.  His  heart  was  touched  by  her 
emotion;  and  he  thought  it  was  well  worth  while  to  have  such 
warm  and  enduring  love  as  had  this  poor  dead  woman  on  the 
pedestal.  After  gazing  long  on  the  beloved  features,  Arsinoe 
had  become  quiet,  and  turning  to  Pollux,  she  asked: 

"  Have  you  made  it?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  he,  casting  down  his  eyes. 

"  And  all  from  memory?" 

"  Certainly." 

"  Do  you  know  what  I  am  thinking?" 

''Please  tell  me." 

"  The  prophetess  at  the  feast  of  Adonis  was  right  in  saying 
that  half  the  work  of  a  sculptor  is  from  the  gods." 

"Arsinoe!"  exclaimed  Pollux,  inspired  to  courage  by  her 
words,  as  if  a  fresh  spring  had  gushed  up  in  his  heart,  and 


74  THE    EilTEROR. 

gratefully  seized  her  hand ;  but  she  drew  it  away,  for  lier  sister 
Selene  had  come  out  on  the  balcony,  and  called  her.  Pollux 
had  placed  the  bust  here  for  the  sake  of  his  old  iiUwfellow, 
and  not  for  Arsinoc;  and  now  her  look  seemed  to  chill  the 
emotions  of  his  soul. 

"  Here  is  the  bust  of  your  mother,'^  he  cried  in  a  tone  of 
explanation,  pointing  toward  it. 

I  see  it,''  she  answered,  with  coolness.  "  By  and  by  I  Avill 
look  at  it  nearer.  Come  back,  Arsinoe;  father  wishes  to  speak 
with  you. ' ' 

As  Selene  went  into  the  chamber  she  shook  her  head,  mur- 
muring: 

**  Pollux  said  it  was  to  be  mine;  for  once  I  was  to  have 
sr,*iething,  but  even  this  joy  has  been  spoiled.  " 


CHAPTER  IX. 

The  overseer  of  the  palace,  to  whom  Selene  called  her 
younger  sister,  had  just  returned  from  the  assembly  of  citi- 
zens, and  the  old  black  who  always  followed  him  took  the 
crocus-colored  pallium  from  his  shoulders  and  the  golden 
fillet  from  his  head.  Keraunus  scorned  heated,  and  his  eyes 
to  be  starting  from  their  sockets,  while  beads  of  perspiration 
stood  on  his  forehead.  He  scarcely  answered  the  pleasant 
greeting  of  Arsinoe,  and  walked  uji  and  down  the  room  for 
some  time  before  opening  the  important  matters  for  which  he 
had  summoned  his  daughters.  He  puffed  out  his  cheeks  and 
crossed  his  arms,  and  Selene  had  become  anxious,  and  Arsinoe 
impatient,  when  at  last  he  began : 

"  Have  you  heard  of  the  festival  to  be  celebrated  in  honor 
of  the  emperor?" 

Selene  nodded  affirmatively,  and  her  sister  cried  out:  "Of 
course  we  have!  Have  you  engaged  places  for  us  upon  the 
benches  of  the  council?" 

"  Do  not  interrupt  me,"  said  the  overseer  in  a  surly  tone. 
**  The  question  is  not  one  of  looking  on.  All  citizens  have 
been  called  on  to  let  their  daughters  take  part  in  the  festivities, 
and  the  number  of  all  such  has  been  asked." 

"  Shall  we  then  have  a  share  in  the  fun?"  asked  Arsinoe, 
clapping  her  hands  with  joy. 

"  I  wished  to  retire  before  this  call  came,  but  the  ship- 
wright, Tryphon,  who  has  his  Avorkshop  near  the  king's  har- 
bor, lu'id  me  back,  and  cried  out  in  the  assembly  that  his  sons 
told  liini  1  had  two  handsome  daughters.  How  did  they  know 
that?" 


THE   EMPEROE.  75 

With  these  words  Keraunus  elevated'  his  gray  eyes,  and  his 
face  flushed  to  the  roots  of  his  hair.  Selene  shrugged  her 
shoulders,  but  Arsinoe  said: 

"  We  often  pass  the  workshop  of  Tryphon,  but  we  do  not 
know  him  or  his  sons.  Have  you  ever  seen  them,  Selene?  It 
is  very  polite  of  liim  to  call  us  handsome. " 

"  No  one  has  a  right  to  trouble  himself  about  your  looks 
unless  he  comes  to  ask  you  of  me  in  marriage,"  answered 
Keraunus,  surly  as  ever. 

"  What  did  you  answer  Tryphon?'^  asked  Selene. 

"  I  did  what  was  incumbent  on  me.  Your  father  governs  a 
palace,  which  now  belongs  to  Rome,  and  its  Emperor  Hadrian 
will  also  be  my  guest  in  this  dwelling  of  my  fathers;  and  can 
I  therefore  do  less  than  share  with  other  citizens  in  whatever 
festivities  the  council  decide  to  celebrate  in  his  honor?" 

"  So  then  we  may  do  it?'^  asked  Arsinoe,  going  toward  her 
father  in  a  caressing  manner. 

Keraunus  was  in  no  humor  for  caresses,  and  pushed  her  back 
with  a  cross  "  let  me  alone, '^  and  went  on  to  say: 

"If  Hadrian  should  ask:  'Keraunus,  where  were  your 
daughters  during  my  days  of  honor?^  and  I  should  be  forced 
to  answer:  '  They  were  not  among  the  daughters  of  the  noble 
citizens,'  it  would  be  an  insult  to  the  Ca3sar,  toward  whom  I 
am,  in  the  main,  well  disposed.  I  thought  over  all  these  things 
before  giving  your  names,  with  the  promise  that  you  would  be 
at  the  assembly  of  women  in  the  little  theater.  You  will  meet 
there  the  noblest  women  of  the  city,  and  the  first  artists  will 
decide  in  what  23art  of  the  celebration  you  had  best  take  parf 

"  But,  father, ''  cried  Selene,  "  how  can  we  show  ourselves 
there  is  our  sim23le  garments,  and  Whence  will  come  money  to 
buy  others?" 

"  We  can  dress  in  clean  white  woolen  robes,  and  make  them 
pretty  enough  with  fresh  ribbons  to  compare  with  any  of  the 
other  girls,"  asserted  Arsinoe,  pressing  in  between  her  father 
and  sister. 

"  It  is  not  that  which  troubles  me,"  answered  the  overseer, 
"  but  the  costumes,  the  costumes.  Only  the  expense  of  dress- 
ing the  poorer  class  will  be  borne  by  the  council,  and  we  do 
not  want  to  be  counted  among  them.  You  understand  me, 
my  children." 

"  I  shall  take  no  share  in  the  j^rocession, "  said  Selene,  de- 
cidedl}^,  but  Arsinoe  fell  in  with  the  word: 

"  To  be  poor  is  certainly  inconvenient  and  disagreeable,  but 
not  disgraceful.  The  noblest  Komans  of  the  aiicient  time 
counted  it  an  honor  to  die  poor.     We  can  always  boast  of  our 


76  THE   EMPEROR. 

Macedonian  origin,  even  though  the  city  pay  for  our  cos- 
tumes." 

*'  Ilushl"  cried  the  overseer.  "  This  is  not  the  first  time  I 
have  heard  you  express  such  low  sentiments.  The  disad- 
vantage of  poverty  can  be  endured  by  tlie  noble,  but  the  only 
real  ])rofit  it  brings  is  after  he  himself  has  ceased  to  be  con- 
scious of  it."  It  cost  the  overseer  much  effort  to  bring  out 
ideas  so  foreign  to  his  own  sentiments;  and  which  he  did  not 
remember  to  have  heard  expressed  by  another  person,  and  at 
the  close  he  let  himself  sink,  with  every  sign  of  exhaustion, 
upon  the  cushion  of  a  divan  which  occupied  a  corner  recess  of 
the  spacious  apartment. 

Cleopatra  had  probably  reclined  upon  this  at  her  feasts  with 
Antony,  for  this  very  spot  had  been  the  dining-room  of  the 
distinguished  lovers.  The  floor  of  the  whole  room  had  an 
elaborate  pattern  wrought  "into  the  paving;  but  in  this  recess 
stones  of  various  colors  were  so  arranged  to  make  a  painting 
of  such  exceeding  beauty  and  fineness  of  execution  that 
Keraunus  had  forbidden  his  children  to  walk  over  it. 

This  was  less  from  any  appreciation  of  the  artistic  work 
than  because  his  father,  and  his  grandfather  before  him,  had 
each  made  the  same  prohibition. 

The  scene  represented  in  this  mosaic  was  the  marriage  of 
Peleus  and  Thetis,  and  the  divan  covered  only  a  row  of  lovely 
cupids,  which  made  an  outside  border  to  this  noble  picture. 

Keraunus  ordered  his  daughter  to  bring  him  a  glass  of  wine, 
but  she  diluted  it  with  fruit  syrup.  After  drinking  half  of  it 
with  many  expressions  of  disgust  at  the  mixture,  he  asked : 

'*  Would  you  like  to  know  the  cost  of  a  single  costume  if  we 
do  not  fall  far  below  the  others?" 

"  Please  tell  us,"  answered  Arsinoe,  anxiously. 

"  Philinus,  the  tailor,  who  works  for  the  theater,  says  it  is 
impossible  to  furnish  one  under  seven  hundred  drachmas."* 

"  ^ou  can  not  think  seriously  of  such  an  outlay!"  cried 
Selene.  "  We  have  nothing,  and  I  am  sure  no  one  will  lend 
to  us." 

The  younger  daughter  stared  blankly  at  her  finger-tips,  and 
said  nothing;  but  the  tears  swimming  in  her  e3^es  betrayed  her 
feelings.  Keraunus  was  pleased  with  this  dumb  evidence  of 
her  sympathy  with  his  own  desire  to  have  a  share  in  the  fes- 
tivities at  any  price.  He  forgot  liis  late  c  iticism  upon  her 
low  sentiments,  and  said: 

"  The  little  one  has  always  a  sense  of  what  is  suitable.     As 

*  One  drachma  is  worth  about  fifteen  cents. 


THE  EMPEROE.  77 

to  you,  Selene,  I  wish  to  remiud  you  that  I  am  your  father, 
and  that  I  can  not  endure  your  admonitory  tone.  You  have 
acquired  it  through  intercourse  with  the  children,  and  toward 
them  it  is  quite  j)roper.  Fourteen  hundred  drachmas  seem  at 
first  thought  a  large  sum,  but  if  one  purchases  the  stuff  and 
the  ornaments  wisely,  it  can  be  returned  to  the  merchant, 
after  the  festival,  perhaps  with  a  profit. " 

''  With  a  profit!"  cried  Selene,  bitterly.  "  Not  the  half,  or 
even  a  quarter  will  be  paid  for  the  old  things!  And  if  you 
should  turn  me  out  of  the  house  for  it  I  will  not  help  plunge 
the  family  into  deeper  misery.  I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with 
the  sport." 

This  time  the  face  of  Keramius  did  not  flush;  he  was  not 
violent.  But  he  looked  np  composedly,  and  not  without  an 
expression  of  contentment,  comj^aring  one  daughter  with  the 
other.  He  was  accustomed  to  regard  Selene  as  the  practical, 
Arsinoe  as  the  pretty  one;  but  since  only  through  the  satisfac- 
tion of  her  vanity  could  he  reach  his  own  end,  he  said: 

"  Then  you  can  stay  with  the  children.  We  will  excuse  you 
on  the  ground  of  poor  health;  and  really,  girl,  you  do  look 
pale  enough  to  frighten  one.  I  shall  only  provide  the  means 
for  Arsinoe.^' 

The  dimples  became  visible  once  more  in  her  cheeks,  while 
the  lips  of  Selene  were  colorless,  as  she  exclaimed: 

"  But,  father,  neither  the  baker  nor  the  butcher  have  re- 
ceived one  sesterce  for  two  months,  and  yet  you  will  throw 
away  seven  hundred  drachmas!" 

"  Throw  away!"  repeated  Keraumus,  disturbed,  but  not  in 
a  passion.  ' '  I  have  already  forbidden  you  to  speak  in  that 
manner  to  me.  The  wealthiest  young  men  of  the  city  will 
take  part  in  these  festivities.  Arsinoe  is  handsome,  and  joer- 
haps  some  one  of  them  may  choose  her  as  a  wife.  Do  you  call 
it  throwing  away  when  a  father  is  seeking  a  worthy  husband 
for  his  child?  Besides,  what  do  you  really  know  of  my 
means?" 

"  We  have  nothing,  therefore  I  can  know  nothing  of  them,'* 
cried  the  girl,  quite  beside  herself. 

"No!"  exclaimed  Keraunus,  stretching  himself,  and  with  a 
supercilious  smile,  "  is  that  nothing  which  lies  in  the  cupboard 
yonder,  and  also  on  the  window-sill?  Out  of  love  to  you  I  am 
willing  to  relinquish  all.  The  onyx  clasj),  the  ring,  the  golden 
fillet,  and  the  girdle,  certainly — " 

"  They  are  only  plated  silver,"  broke  in  Selene,  without 
mercy.     "  You  sold  the  genuine  after  mother's  death." 

''  It  was  necessary  that  she  should  be  cremated  according  to 


78  THE  EMPEROR. 

our  rank/'  answered  Keraunus.  "  I  do  not  like  to  recall  those 
sorrowful  days.'' 

"  Do  thiuk  of  them,  father!" 

*'  Hush!  That  which  belongs  to  my  personal  adornment  I 
ought  not  to  relinquisli;  for  I  must  meet  the  emperor  as  he 
whom  I  am.  But  the  vahie  of  that  bronze  Cupid,  tlie  carved 
ivory  cup  of  Plutarch,  and  especially  the  painting  yonder, 
which  the  former  owner  assured  me  was  done  by  Aj^elles  here 
in  Alexandria,  can  be  used  for  this  purpose.  We  shall  soon 
learn  what  they  are  worth,  for,  as  if  the  gods  ordered  it,  I  met 
on  way  home  Gabinius,  the  dealer  in  relics,  from  IS'icaa.  He 
promised,  after  finishing  his  business  with  the  architect,  to 
come  in  here  and  look  at  my  treasures;  and  he  will  pay  ready 
money  for  anything  he  takes.  My  AjDclles  is  well  worth  ten 
talents;  but  if  he  gives  me  only  a  half,  or  a  quarter  of  that 
sum,  I  shall  be  satisfied.  Then,  for  once,  Selene,  I  shall  insist 
on  your  enjoying  a  pleasure." 

''  We  will  see,"  answered  the  j)ale  girl,  shrugging  her 
shoulders;  and  Arsinoe  cried: 

"  Show  him  also  the  sword,  which  you  always  say  once  be- 
longed to  Antony,  and  if  he  gives  much  for  it,  you  can  buy  me 
a  bracelet." 

*'  Selene  shall  have  one,  too.  But  I  expect  little  from  the 
sword;  it  will  hardly  be  considered  genuine.  Yet  there  are 
many  other  things.  Hark!  that  must  be  his  knock.  Quick, 
Selene,  help  me  on  with  the  chiton!  My  band,  Arsinoe. 
They  always  give  a  higher  price  to  one  Mdio  appears  in  good 
circumstances  than  to  a  jooor  man.  I  ordered  the  slave  to 
detain  him  in  the  front  apartment.  That  is  done  in  all  the 
best  houses." 

The  dealer  in  relics  was  a  small  and  meager  man,  who  had 
gained  distinction  and  wealth  through  his  own  shrewdness  and 
diligence.  He  was  regarded  as  the  highest  authority  in  dis- 
criminating between  false  and  genuine  articles.  No  man  had 
better  eyes  than  he,  but  he  was  rough  in  intercourse  with  those 
from  whom  he  had  nothing  to  expect,  though  polite,  even  to 
fawning,  where  he  had  the  prospect  of  gain,  and  he  possessed 
an  immense  fund  of  i:»atience.  He  constrained  himself  to  an  air 
of  conviction  as  the  overseer  assured  him  he  was  rather  tired  of 
guarding  these  small  treasures;  he  did  not  propose  to  part 
with  them  for  the  sake  of  the  money;  still,  he  would  like  to 
show  them  to  an  expert,  and  was  willing  to  let  them  go  should 
a  sufficient  sum  be  ofl'ered.  One  jnece  after  another  passed 
through  the  fine  fingers  of  Gabinius,  and  were  laid  aside.  The 
man  was  very  silent^  and  shook  his  head  each  time  he  put 


THE   EMPEROR.  'i9 

down  an  article.  As  Keraimus  related  when  this  or  that  had 
originated,  he  replied  only  by  a  faint  "So?"  or  "  Do  you  think 
so?''  or  "Indeed!" 

After  the  last  article  had  been  scrutinized  Kerauiius  asked: 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think?" 

The  beginning  of  the  sentence  rang  confidently,  but  the  end 
expressed  anxiety;  for  the  dealer  smiled  and  shook  his  head 
once  more  before  he  said: 

"  All  very  j^retty,  but  nothing  of  any  special  value.  I  ad- 
vise you  to  keep  them,  since  they  are  precious  in  your  eyes, 
while  I  have  little  occasion  for  such." 

Keraunus  avoided  meeting  the  eye  of  Selene,  who  had 
anxiously  watched  the  dealer;  but  Arsinoe,  who  had  also  been 
attentive  to  his  every  movement,  pointing  to  her  father's 
Apelles,  cried  out: 

"  And  is  tliis  painting  of  no  value?" 

"  I  am  sorry  that  I  can  not  assure  such  a  beautiful  young 
lady  that  it  is  a  treasure  of  inestimable  worth,"  answered  the 
dealer,  stroking  his  whiskers.  "  But,  unfortunately,  it  is  only 
a  weak  imitation.  The  original  is  in  the  Cothurnus,  a  villa  of 
Pliny,  on  the  Lake  of  Como.    I  have  no  call  for  such  articles. " 

"  And  this  carved  goblet,"  asked  Keraunus.  "  It  belonged 
to  Plutarch,  as  I  can  prove,  and  was  probably  a  gift  from  the 
Emperor  Trajan." 

"  Certainly  it  is  the  prettiest  tiling  in  your  collection,"  an- 
swered Gabinius;  "  but  four  hundred  drachmas  is  really  more 
than  it  is  worth." 

"  And  this  Cyprian  cylinder  with  the  fine  engraving?" 

The  overseer  put  out  his  hand,  trembling  with  excitement, 
to  take  u])  the  polished  crystal,  but  j)uslied  it  to  the  floor.  It 
rolled  noisily  over  the  stone  floor  and  the  smooth  mosaic  to  the 
divan.  Keraunus  was  stooping  to  pick  it  up,  but  both  daugh- 
ters held  him  back,  while  Selene  cried : 

"  Father,  you  must  not;  the  physician  has  strictly  forbidden 
it." 

While  the  grumbling  overseer  tried  to  push  aside  the  girls 
the  relic  dealer  had  already  dropped  upon  one  knee  to  reach  it. 
But  the  man  was  much  longer  in  rising  than  he  had  been  in 
stooping  down,  for  it  was  some  moments  before  he  stood  on 
his  feet.  Meanwliile  his  features  had  taken  on  a  strained 
expression.  Once  more  he  seized  the  tablet  describing  the 
Apelles,  and  seated  himself  on  the  divan,  ajDparently  ab- 
sorbed in  the  painting,  whi('li  he  held  so  as  to  hide  his  face 
from  the  three  persons  who  were  watching  him.  But  he  was 
not  studying  the  picture.     His  thoughts  were  occupied  with 


80  THE  EMPEROR. 

the  marriage  scene  on  the  mosaic  at  liis  feet,  in  wliidi  lie  had 
discovered  a  rare  treasure. 

MeaiiAvliile  the  features  of  Keraunus  grew  more  cheerful  in 
their  ex])res.sion.  Selene  no  longer  held  her  breath,  and  Ar- 
sinoe  trijiped  to  the  side  of  her  father,  and  pulling  his  arm, 
whispered:  "Don't  give  him  the  Apelles  cheap,  and  re- 
member my  bracelet." 

Now  Gabinius  rose,  glanced  again  at  the  articles  on  the 
table,  and  said: 

"  For  all  these  together,  I  can  offer — let  me  see — twenty, 
fifty,  four  hundred,  four  hiuidred  and  fifty.  I  can  olfer  six 
hundred  and  fifty  drachmas — not  one  sesterce  more. " 

*'  You  are  joking,'"  exclaimed  Keraunus. 

"Not  a  sesterce  more,"  repeated  the  dealer,  coolly.  "I 
shall  make  no  profit,  but,  as  a  sensible  man,  you  understand 
that  I  can  not  purchase  at  a  positive  loss.  As  to  the  Apelles 
— well— imder  certain  conditions,  it  might  have  a  value  for 
me.  The  case  is  a  little  jjeculiar.  You  young  ladies  know 
that  my  trade  has  taught  me  to  estimate  things  according  to 
their  real  worth;  yet  I  must  ask  you  to  leave  me  for  a  little 
while  alone  with  yom*  father.  I  want  to  talk  with  him  about 
this  rare  picture," 

Keraunus  nodded  to  his  daughters,  who  left  the  room  at 
once.     Before  the  door  was  closed,  Gabinius  called  after  them : 

"  May  I  ask  you  to  send  your  slave  with  a  bright  fight?  It 
is  already  twilight. " 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  the  painting?"  asked  Keramius. 

"  Let  us  speak  of  other  tilings  until  the  lamp  comes,"  an- 
swered Gabinius. 

*'  Then  take  a  seat  on  this  divan.  You  will  thus  be  giving 
me,  as  well  as  yourself,  a  pleasure." 

When  they  were  seated,  Gabinius  began: 

"  One  gives  up  these  things,  with  their  j^leasant  associations, 
unwillingly.  I  know  this  from  experience.  Many  people, 
after  selling  such,  have  offered  ten  times  the  amount  I  paid  to 
get  them  back  again — very  often  in  vain — they  are  gone  be- 
yond recall.  What  is  true  of  others  is  doubtless  true  of  you. 
If  you  were  not  needing  money,  you  would  not  oM'er  these 
things  to  me." 

"  I  must  assure  you — "  broke  in  Keraunus,  but  the  dealer 
did  not  allow  him  to  go  on. 

"  Ready  money  fails  sometimes  with  the  richest,  even  when 
they  have  abundance  in  large  possessions.  It  is  in  just  suck 
cases  of  embarrassment  that  my  help  is  wanted." 


THE  ilMPEROll.  81 

"  There  is  my  Apelles/^  broke  in  Keraimus,  once  more. 
*'  It  wiJl  belong  to  you,  if  your  offer  pleases  me." 

*'  Here  comes  the  light/ ^  cried  Gabinius,  taking  the  three- 
armed  lamp  (into  which  Selene  had  quickly  put  a  new  wick 
and  fresh  oil)  from  the  hand  of  the  slave,  and  setting  it  in  the 
very  middle  of  the  mosaic  painting,  turning  to  Keraunus  as  he 
did  so  with  a  faint,  "  By  yom*  permission." 

The  overseer  looked  inquisitively  at  this  singular  proceeding, 
but  Gabinius  scarcely  noticed  him,  and  dropping  again  on  his 
knees,  passed  liis  fingers  over  the  lines  of  the  painting. 

"  Have  you  lost  something?"  asked  Keraunus. 

*'  No,  nothing  at  all.  There — in  the  corner.  Now  I  know 
enough.  May  1  place  the  lamp  on  the  table?  There — and 
now  to  return  to  our  business.  I  will  say  beforehand,  that 
my  offer  will  no  longer  be  in  drachmas,  but  in  genuine  Attic 
talents.*  You  know  the  difference.  I  shall  offer  you  five; 
wliich  is  enough  to  buy  a  good  house  in  some  parts  of  the 
city." 

Again  the  blood  rushed  to  the  head  of  the  overseer,  and  his 
heart  beat  so  violently  that  for  a  few  moments  he  could  not 
speak;  but  at  length,  so  far  recovering  that  he  determined 
this  time  to  seize  fortune  by  the  hair  and  not  to  be  over- 
reached in  the  bargain,  answered : 

"  Five  talents  are  not  enough;  offer  me  more." 

"  Then  we  will  say  six." 

"  If  you  double  that  sum  I  will  agree  to  it.'" 

"  I  can  not  offer  above  ten.  For  that  sum  one  could  build 
a  small  palace. " 

"  I  stand  by  twelve." 

"  Then  let  it  be  so,  but  not  a  sesterce  more." 

"  I  shall  part  unwillingly  from  the  noble  work;  but  as  a 
favor  to  you,  I  will  give  up  my  Apelles. " 

"  1  am  not  talking  about  that,  which  is  of  so  little  value 
that  you  can  continue  to  enjoy  it.  There  is  another  thing  in 
this  room  which  I  want,  which  perhaps  you  scarcely  consider 
worth  noticing.  A  wealthy  lover  of  art  has  asked  me  to  pro- 
cm-e  for  him  just  such  an  article." 

"  I  know  not  what  you  mean." 

*'  Does  all  the  furniture  of  this  room  belong  to  you?" 

"  To  whom  else  should  it  belong?" 

"  Then  you  are  at  liberty  to  dispose  of  anything  here?" 

"Certainly." 

*  One  Attic  talent  is  about  $1,180. 


82  THE  EMPEROR. 

"  Well,  then,  the  twelve  talents  I  offered  are  for  the  jjicture 
under  our  feet. " 

"  The  mosaic?    Why,  that  belongs  to  the  palace." 

"  It  belongs  to  the  dwelUng,  where,  as  I  heard  from  your 
own  mouth,  your  ancestors  have  dwelt  more  than  a  hundred 
years.  I  know  the  law,  and  that  declares  whatever  has  been 
in  undisputed  possession  of  a  family  for  a  hundred  years  to  be 
inalienable." 

"  The  mosaic  belongs  to  the  palace." 

"  Xo,  certainly  not.  It  is  yours.  To-morrow  I  will  send 
you  twelve  talents,  in  gold,  and  a  little  later  this  evening  I 
will  take  up  the  painting,  with  my  son's  help,  pack  it,  and 
carry  it  away  after  dark.  You  must  look  out  for  a  carpet  to 
cover  the  empty  place.  And  it  is  even  more  important  for  me 
to  keep  the  transaction  a  secret  than  for  you." 

"  The  mosaic  belongs  to  the  palace,"  repeated  the  overseer, 
this  time  in  a  louder  voice.  Do  you  hear?  It  belongs  to 
the  palace,  and  I  will  break  the  bones  of  any  one  who  touches 
it." 

With  these  words  Keraunus  rose,  bending  his  gigantic  body, 
while  the  blood  rushed  to  his  face  as  he  threatened  the  dealer 
with  his  doubled  list.     Gabinius  stepped  backward  frightened. 


Do  you  not  then  want  my  twelve  talents?" 
"I  want — I  want" — stammered  Keraunus,  "I  want  to 
show  you  how  I  treat  those  who  take  me  for  a  thief.  Get  out, 
rascal,  and  don't  let  me  hear  another  word  of  the  mosaic,  and 
the  theft  under  cover  of  the  darkness,  or  I  will  have  the  lictors 
of  the  prefect  at  your  throat,  and  see  you  put  into  irons,  you 
detestable  robber." 

Gabinius  hurried  to  the  door,  but  turned  again  toward  the 
snorting  and  panting  Colossus,  crying  out,  as  he  crossed  the 
threshold: 

"  Keep  your  wares;  w^e  wall  talk  it  over  another  time!" 
When  Selene  and  Arsinoe  came  back  to  the  room  they  found 
their  father  sitting  on  the  divan,  his  head  hanging  over  his 
breast,  and  breathing  with  great  difficulty.     Terrified,   they 
came  toward  him,  but  he  cried  out,  brokenly: 

"  Water,  a  swallow  of  water — the  thief — the  scoundrel!" 
Without  the  slightest  hesitation  he  had  thrust  back  the 
proposition  which  would  have  brought  a  competence  for  him- 
self and  his  family;  yet  he  would  have  as  unhesitatingly  bor- 
rowed the  same,  or  double  the  amount,  from  either  a  rich  or 
a  poor  man,  well  knowing  he  could  never  restore  it.  lie  was 
not  at  all  proud  of  his  deed;  he  thought  it  only  natui'al  for  a, 


THE   EMPEEOE.  83 

Macedonian  nobleman.  To  accept  the  offer  of  the  rehc  dealer 
would  have  been  to  him  among  the  imjDossible  things. 

But  where  now  was  he  to  find  money  to  procure  the  costume 
for  Arsinoe? — how  could  he  kee])  the  promise  given  in  the  as- 
sembly? He  lay  for  an  hour  on  the  divan  thinking  it  over. 
Then  he  took  a  wax  tablet  from  the  chest,  and  began  a  letter 
to  the  prefect,  offering  to  sell  him  the  mosaic  for  the  emperor's 
use  in  the  palace,  but  he  soon  became  entangled  in  high- 
sounding  phrases. 

At  last,  despairing  of  success,  he  threw  the  unfinished  letter 
into  the  chest,  and  laid  himself  down  to  sleep. 


CHAPTER   X. 

While  heavy  clouds  of  care,  anxiety  and  disappointment 
darkened  the  souls  of  those  in  the  dwelling  of  the  palace  over- 
seer, feasting  and  jollity  reigned  in  the  Hall  of  the  Muses. 
Julia,  wife  of  the  prefect,  had  sent  to  the  Lochias  a  richly  pre- 
pared meal  sufficient  for  six  hungry  men;  and  the  slave  of 
Pontius,  who  had  received,  unpacked,  and  arranged  it  on  the 
rudest  of  tables,  hastened  to  show  his  master  these  wonders  in 
the  art  of  cooking.  The  architect  shook  his  head  at  the  sight, 
and  said  to  himself: 

''  Titianus  must  take  me  for  a  crocodile;  or  rather,  for  two 
crocodiles. " 

Then  he  went  to  the  inclosure  behind  which  Pollux  was  at 
work,  and  finding  Papias  with  liim,  invited  both  men  to  share 
his  meal.  To  these  guests  he  added  two  painters,  and  the 
most  famous  worker  in  mosaics  of  the  city,  who  had  all  the 
day  been  busy  in  rej^airing  pavements  or  frescoed  ceilings. 
With  the  heljD  of  the  good  wine  and  the  merry  talk,  the  dishes 
were  soon  emjotied. 

Whoever  works  steadily  with  either  hands  or  brains  will  be- 
come hungry;  and  for  several  days  all  these  artisans  called  to- 
gether by  Pontius  had  labored  to  the  extent  of  their  powers. 
Each  did  his  best,  not  alone  to  satisfy  Pontius,  whom  they  all 
respected,  but  also  to  give  the  emperor  a  proof  of  what  the 
Alexandrians  were  capable. 

After  the  dishes  had  been  removed,  and  the  satisfied  guests 
had  washed  and  dried  their  hands,  the  goblets  were  filled  from 
a  tankard  of  a  size  corresponding  to  the  abundant  provision  of 
food.  One  of  the  painters  suggested  speeches,  and  the  sculptor, 
Papias,  who  was  as  famous  for  happy  expression  of  thought  as 
for  sculpture,  was  unanimously  chosen  toast-master.  But  he 
declined  the  honor  in  favor  of  one  more  worthy — the  man  who 


84  THE  EMPEROR. 

had,  only  a  few  days  before,  come  into  this  empty  palace  and, 
as  a  second  Deucalion,  called  out  of  nothing,  instead  of  out  of 
stone,  this  busy  host  of  workmen  and  artists.  While  assuring 
them  that  he  understood  using  hammer  and  nails  much  bet- 
ter than  the  tongue,  and  had  never  learned  to  make  a  speech, 
lie  begged  them  to  choose  Pontius  for  the  place.  I^ut  he  had 
not  finisiied  his  suggestions,  when  the  gate-keeper,  Euphorion, 
came  with  great  haste  into  the  hall,  bringing  a  letter  for  the 
architect. 

*'  To  be  read  instantly,"  he  declared,  bowing  in  a  theatrical 
manner  before  Pontius.  ''A  lictor  of  the  prefect  brought 
this,  which  I  trust  contains  good  tidings.  Hush  your  barking, 
you  wretched  beggars,  or  I  shall  strike  you  down." 

The  last  remark,  whose  tone  was  scarcely  meant  for  the  ears 
of  the  artistic  company,  was  addressed  to  the  three  four-footed 
Graces  of  his  wife,  who,  against  his  will,  had  followed  him  into 
the  hall,  and  sprung  barking  ujjon  the  tables  where  stood  the 
remnants  of  the  feast.  Pontius,  who  loved  animals,  and  was 
a  special  friend  of  these  little  dogs  at  the  gate-keeper^  s,  said, 
while  opening  the  letter  of  the  prefect:  "  I  invite  the  three 
little  ones  to  finish  our  feast.  Give  them  what  you  think  best, 
Euphorion,  and  if  there  be  anything  suitable  for  your  own 
stomach,  take  it,  and  welcome." 

While  Pontius  glanced  hastily  at  the  letter,  and  then  read  it 
through  more  attentively,  the  musician  had  gathered  many 
nice  bits  together  for  the  pets  of  his  wife,  and  finally  raised  the 
last  pasty,  on  the  plate  to  which  it  belonged,  to  liis  own  nose. 
"  For  dogs,  or  men?"  he  asked  of  his  son,  toucMng  it  with  his 
outstretched  finger. 

''For  gods,"  answered  Pollux.  "Take  it  to  mother;  she 
will  like  for  once  to  eat  ambrosia." 

"  A  joyful  evening  to  you  all,"  cried  Euphorion,  bowing  to 
the  men  busy  with  their  cups,  and  left  the  hall  with  the  pasty 
and  the  three  dogs.  While  he  was  retreating  slowly,  Papias, 
■whose  speech  had  been  interrupted  by  his  entrance,  rose,  and 
lifting  his  cup,  began  once  more: 

"  Deucalion,  our  more  than  Deucalion — " 

"  Excuse  me,"  broke  in  Pontius,  *'  if  I  interrupt  a  speech 
so  felicitously  begun.  This  letter  contains  important  tidings. 
The  banquet  is  over  for  to-day.  We  must  postpone  our  sym- 
posium and  your  toast. " 

"  It  was  no  toast,  for  when  a  modest  man — "  began  Papias. 

Pontius  prevented  his  progress,  saying:  "  Titianus  is  coming 
to  the  Lochias  this  evening.  He  nuiy  be  here  any  moment, 
and  he  will  not  be  alone.     He  brings  one  of  my  feilow-urchi- 


THE  EMPEEOK.  85 

tects,  Claudius  Venator,  from  Rome.     The  man  comes  to  as- 
sist me  with  his  counsel."' 

"  I  have  never  heard  that  name/'  said  Papias,  who  was  as 
familiar  with  the  persons  as  the  works  of  fellow-artists. 

•'  That  surprises  me/'  answered  Pontius,  folding  up  the  let- 
ter which  had  brought  him  word  of  the  emperor's  arrival. 

"  Does  he  know  anything?"  asked  Pollux. 

"  More  than  all  of  us  together,"  answered  Pontius.  "  He 
is  a  great  man." 

"  That  is  good,"  cried  Pollux.  "  I  love  to  meet  great  men. 
When  they  look  one  in  the  eye  it  is  as  if  something  of  their 
greatness  passes  into  us.  Involuntarily  one  stretches  himself 
upward  and  thinks  how  fine  it  would  be  to  some  day  reach  Ms 
chin—" 

"  Do  not  follow  a  sickly  ambition,"  said  Papias,  interrupting 
his  pupil  in  admonitory  tone.  "  Not  he  who  stands  on  tiptoe, 
but  the  man  who  is  faithful  in  performance  of  duty  may  look 
to  attain  greatness." 

"  This  man  does  honest  work,"  said  Pontius,  rising  and 
placing  his  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  Pollux.  "  And  that  is 
true  of  us  all.  Let  each  one  be  at  his  post  by  sunrise  to-mor- 
row. For  the  sake  of  my  colleague  it  will  be  well  to  have  all 
here  promptly." 

The  artists  rose,  expressing  their  thanks  and  regrets. 

"You  can  not  continue  yom-  speech  this  evening,"  cried 
one  of  the  painters  to  Papias,  who,  in  taking  leave  of  Pontius, 
remarked : 

"  When  we  come  together  again,  I  shall  explain  what  I  un- 
derstand by  a  toast.  It  may  perhaps  interest  your  Roman 
guest.  I  am  curious  to  know  what  he  will  say  to  the  Urania. 
Pollux  has  done  his  share  of  the  work  well — I  must  devote  a 
few  hours  more  to  its  completion.  The  poorer  our  material, 
the  more  shall  I  rejoice  if  it  please  the  emperor;  he  is  himself 
something  of  a  sculptor. " 

"  If  Hadrian  were  to  hear  that!"  broke  in  one  of  the  paint- 
ers. "  He  wishes  to  be  considered  a  great  sculptor,  the  first  of 
our  time.  They  say  he  was  to  blame  for  the  death  of  the 
great  architect  Apollodorus,  who  did  such  noble  work  in  the 
time  of  Trajan.  And  why?  Because  the  worthy  man  regard- 
ed the  emperor  as  a  bungler,  and  did  not  ajjprove  his  design 
for  the  Temple  of  Venus  at  Rome." 

*'  I'liat  was  only  a  rumor,"  said  Pontius,  in  rejily  to  this 
charge.  "  Apollodorus  died  in  prison,  but  his  confinement 
there  had  little  to  do  with  his  criticism  of  the  emperor's  work. 


8G  THE    EMPEROR. 

But  I  must  beg  you  to  excuse  me,  gentlemen.  I  must  look 
over  tlie  drauglits  and  plans.  ^' 

The  architect  walked  out,  but  Pollux  sought  to-continue  the 
conversation,  saying: 

*'  I  can  not  comprehend  how  Hadrian,  with  the  cares  of 
government  and  state  affairs,  at  the  same  time  a  devoted 
hunter — interested  also  in  all  sorts  of  learned  tittle-tattle — can 
call  back  his  fine  senses  from  their  flight  in  these  directio)is  to 
the  jiractice  of  any  artistic  work.  The  inside  of  his  head  must 
look  like  the  salad-dish  we  just  enii^tied,  in  which  Papias  had 
discovered  three  sorts  of  fish,  black  meat,  white  meat,  oysters, 
and  at  least  five  other  ingredients. " 

"  And  who,"  added  PajDias,  "  will  deny  that  if  talent  be  the 
mother,  and  diligence  the  father,  of  all  artistic  skill,  steady 
practice  must  be  called  the  tutor?  Since  Hadrian  paints  and 
works  in  stone,  it  has  become  the  fashion,  here  as  everywhere, 
to  dabble  in  it.  Among  the  wealthy  young  men  who  frequent 
my  workshop,  there  are  many  well  endowed  by  nature,  but 
none  of  them  bring  much  to  pass,  because  the  gymnasium, 
the  baths,  the  combats,  the  banquets,  and  I  know  not  what 
else,  take  so  much  time  from  their  practice." 

"  Yes,"  added  one  of  the  painters,  "  without  the  constraint 
and  the  annoyaance  of  the  apprenticeship,  one  can  not  attain 
to  a  free  and  happy  power  of  creation.  In  the  schools  of 
rhetoric,  upon  a  hunting  expedition,  and  in  war,  one  can  have 
no  rogidar  lessons.  It  is  only  when  a  pupil  devotes  six  hours 
a  day  to  his  practice  that  I  begin  to  think  he  will  accomplish 
something.  Have  any  of  you  seen  a  specimen  of  the  em- 
l^eror's  work.^" 

"  I  have,"  answered  the  worker  in  mosaic.  "  A  few  years 
ago  Hadrian  sent  me  one  of  his  pictures  as  the  pattern  for  a 
mosaic  I  was  to  make.  It  was  a  fruit  piece,  contahiing  melons, 
gourds,  apples,  and  green  leaves.  The  drawing  was  so-so,  the 
coloring  vivid,  and  the  composition  pleased  me  for  its  romid- 
ness  and  fullness.  It  is  more  agreeable  to  see  a  painting  too 
rich  than  too  poor.  The  large  fruit,  under  the  almost  too 
exuberant  foliage,  looked  as  if  it  might  have  grown  in  the  gar- 
den of  luxury;  but  the  tvhole  expression  was  pleasing.  In  my 
mosaic,  I  softened  the  coloring  a  little.  A  copy  of  this  picture 
I  liave  yet.  It  hangs  in  the  hall  of  my  designers.  The  rich 
Kealkes  used  it  as  a  pattern  for  a  piece  of  tapestry,  M-hich 
Pontius  has  purchased  for  the  wall  of  the  emperor's  private 
room,  and  I  added  a  handsome  border  for  him." 

"  >S&y  rather  for  the  original  designer." 


THE   EMPEROR.  87 

"  Or  better  still,  against  his  possible  visit  to  your  work- 
shop/' broke  in  the  most  loquacious  of  the  jjainters. 

"  Do  you  suppose  the  emperor  will  visit  us?  I  should  like 
to  sell  liim  my  '  Salutation  of  Alexander  in  the  Temple  of 
Jupiter  Ammon/  " 

'"'  I  hope,  when  it  comes  to  fixing  the  price,  you  will  not  for- 
get your  colleagues,"  added  another,  with  a  smirk. 

'^  I  will  be  guided  by  your  example,"  answered  the  first 
speaker. 

"  Then  you  will  scarcely  come  too  short,"  cried  Papias, 
"  for  Eustorgius  knows  how  to  put  a  high  value  on  his  own 
work.  If  Hadrian  should  leave  an  order  with  all  the  masters 
in  whose  work  he  dabbles,  he  will  need  a  special  fleet  to  carry 
all  his  purchases  to  Eome. " 

"  They  say,"  said  the  painter  Eustorgius,  "  he  is  a  j^ainter 
among  poets,  a  sculptor  among  painters,  an  astronomer  witli 
the  musicians,  a  sophist  with  the  sculptors;  i.  e.,  he  pursues 
each  of  the  arts  or  sciences  as  a  secondary  occupation,  with 
hajjpy  success. " 

Just  here  Pontius  returned  to  the  table,  and  hearing  the 
last  words,  he  interrupted  the  speaker  to  say: 

"  You  forget,  my  friend,  that  he  stands  among  the  Eegents, 
in  the  full  significance  of  that  word.  Each  of  you  can  exe- 
cute in  his  own  department  certainly  more  carefully  and  min- 
utely, but  how  great  is  the  man,  who,  with  no  lazy  interest, 
but  with  earnestness  and  skill,  attempts  what  only  a  fine 
spirit  and  a  cultivated  thought  could  accomiolish.  I  know 
him,  and  am  sure  that  he  loves  cajiable  workers,  and  seeks  to 
encourage  them  with  princely  generosity.  But  he  has  his  ears 
everywhere,  and  will  prove  an  implacable  enemy  to  all  who 
irritate  his  sensibilities.  Guard  your  Alexandrian  tongues; 
and  let  me  tell  you  that  the  colleague  I  am  exjjecting  from 
Eome  stands  very  near  to  Hadrian.  He  is  an  old  associate, 
he  looks  like  him,  and  never  keejis  back  from  him  anything 
he  hears.  Do  not  criticise  the  emperor,  or  be  more  severe  to- 
ward the  amateur  in  purj)le  than  you  are  with  your  wealthy 
pupils  for  whom  '  charming,^  or  '  wonderfully  pretty,'  or  '  ex- 
traordinarily nice,'  slips  so  easily  over  the  lips.  Do  not  take 
my  warning  amiss.     You  know  how  I  mean  it." 

These  words  were  spoken  with  that  manly  heartiness  which 
always  won  the  confidence  and  obedience  even  of  those  who 
held  opposite  views. 

Adieus  and  hand-shakings  were  exchanged;  the  company 
left  the  hall;  a  slave  carried  out  the  wine-taukard,  and  cleai-ed 


88  THE  EMPEROR. 

the  table  upon  wliicli  Poutius  spread  out  his  j^lans  and  dia- 
grams. 

But  he  was  not  long  alone,  for  Pollux  came  to  his  side,  and 
said,  with  comical  i^athos,  placing  one  finger  against  his  nose: 

"  I  have  sprung  from  my  cage  to  say  something  to  you/' 

"AYell?*' 

"  The  hour  approaches  in  which  I  can  seek  to  requite  the 
benefits  you  have  at  various  times  bestowed  ujion  my  stomach. 
My  mother  will  to-morrow  set  before  you  the  dish  of  cabbage. 
She  could  not  do  it  sooner,  as  the  only  sausage-maker,  ^\■ho  is 
king  of  his  art,  prepares  the  little  moist  cylinders  only  once  in 
a  week.  A  few  hours  ago  the  sausages  were  ready,  and  to- 
morrow, for  breakfast,  my  mother  will  heat  over  the  noble 
dish;  for,  as  I  have  told  you  before,  only  as  warmed  over  does 
it  reach  our  ideal.  The  sweet  dishes  that  will  come  with  it 
will  also  bear  evidence  of  my  mother's  skill;  but  for  the  re- 
freshing drink — the  dull-care-dispersing  wine,  we  shall  be  in- 
debted to  my  sister. " 

"  I  will  come,"  answered  Pontius,  '*  if  our  guest  gives  me  a 
free  hour;  and  shall  heartily  relish  your  good  cheer.  But 
what  does  such  a  merry  bird  as  you  know  of  '  dull  care?'  " 

"  That  Avord  smts  the  meter,"  answered  Pollux,  "  and  I 
have  inherited  from  my  father,  wdio  sings  and  jDoetizes  when 
he  is  not  busy  at  the  gate,  the  troublesome  necessity  of  express- 
ing in  rhyme  whatever  moves  my  soul. " 

"  You  have  been  more  silent  than  usual  to-day,  and  yet 
you  look  very  happy.  Not  alone  your  face,  but  your  whole 
long  body  from  crown  to  foot,  seems  a  vessel  filled  to  the  brim 
with  joy." 

"It  is  good  to  be  in  the  world,"  cried  Pollux,  stretching 
himself  upward,  and  lifting  his  arms  toward  the  heavens. 

"  Has  anything  especially  agreeable  happened  to  you?" 

"  That  is  not  at  all  necessary!  I  live  here  in  noble  com- 
pany— the  work  progresses — and  why  should  I  conceal  it? 
There  was  something  special  to-day.  I  met  an  old  acquaint- 
ance. " 

*'  A  very  old  one?" 

"  It  is  sixteen  years  since  I  have  kno■v\^l  her;  but  I  saw  her 
first  in  baby-clothes. " 

"  More  than  sixteen !  Then  this  venerable  friend  must  be 
at  least  seventeen!  •  Was  it  Eros,  or  did  the  happiness  follow 
in  his  train?" 

The  architect  spoke  meditatively,  and  Pollux  listened  with 
attention.     Then  he  said: 

**  What  is  going  on  outside  at  tliis  houi'?    Did  you  not  hear 


THE  EMPEROE.  89 

the  deep  baying  of  a  dog  between  the  shrill  yelping  of  the 
three  Graces?" 

"  Titianus  brings  the  Roman  architect/^  said  Pontius,  ex- 
cited. "  I  will  go  to  meet  them.  But  one  word  more,  my 
friend.  You,  too,  have  an  Alexandrian  tongue.  Be  careful, 
in  the  jDresence  of  this  Roman,  not  to  ridicule  the  emperor.  I 
repeat  what  I  said  before.  The  man  who  comes  is  superior  to 
us  all;  and  nothing  can  be  more  repugnant  than  for  one  to  put 
on  airs  because  some  weakness  has  been  discovei-ed  in  a  great 
man  of  which  the  complainer  happens  to  be  free.  The  artist 
I  expect  is  a  great  man,  but  Hadrian  is  far  greater.  Now  re- 
treat behind  your  frame- work,  and  to-morrow  I  will  be  your 


CHAPTER  XL 

Pontius  threw  his  pallium  over  the  chiton  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  wear  while  at  work,  and  went  to  meet  the  monarch 
of  the  world,  whose  coming  the  letter  of  the  prefect  had  an- 
nounced. He  was  outwardly  calm,  and  if  his  heart  beat  faster 
than  usual,  it  was  with  joy  in  the  expectation  of  meeting  again 
the  wonderful  man  whose  personality  had  so  deeply  impressed 
him  on  a  former  occasion.  In  the  consciousness  of  having 
done  all  he  could  to  prepare  the  jjalace  for  its  master,  he 
stepped  into  the  court,  where  many  slaves  were  busied  in  lay- 
ing down  new  flag-stones  by  torch-light.  Neither  they  nor  their 
overseer  had  heard  the  deep  baying  of  the  dog  and  the  loud 
voices  which  rang  through  the  court,  so  absorbed  were  all  in 
their  work.  Pontius  had  offered  a  reward  if  a  certain  amount 
of  this  flagging  were  laid  witliin  a  specified  time. 

The  emperor  had  been  delayed  by  adverse  winds,  and  it  was 
almost  midnight  when  the  ship  reached  the  haven. 

He  greeted  Titianus  with  the  hearty  warmth  of  an  old 
friend,  and  entered,  with  him  and  Antinous,  the  chariot  of  the 
former;  while  Phlegon,  the  private  secretary,  and  Hermogenes, 
the  physician,  and  the  slave,  Mastor,  followed  upon  another 
vehicle  with  the  luggage,  which  included  camp-beds.  The 
harbor  guards  at  first  opposed  the  progress  of  these  chariots, 
driving  noisily  through  the  streets,  disturbing  the  quiet  of  the 
night;  but  seeing  Titianus  they  stepped  respectfully  aside.  The 
gate-keejier  and  his  wife  had  remained  awake,  in  accordance 
with  the  suggestion  of  the  jorefect;  and  so  soon  as  Euphorion 
heard  the  approaching  chariot-wheels,  the  gates  flew  open  for 
the  emjDeror's  admission. 

The  state  of  the  pavements  and  the  crowd  of  laborers  made 


.90  THE   EMPEROR. 

it  necessary  to  desceiul  from  the  chariot  at  the  gate-keeper*s 
house.  Hadrian,  whom  notliing  escaped  which  was  worth 
seeing,  ste]iped  before  the  open  door  and  looked  into  the 
pleasant  room,  with  its  birds  and  flowers  and  statue  of  Apollo, 
and  Doris,  in  her  newest  gown,  awaiting  Titianus  on  the  thresh- 
old. 

The  prefect  saluted  her  heartil)^,  for  he  was  accustomed, 
whenever  he  came  to  the  Lochias,  to  exchange  a  few  ,Avords 
with  the  cheerful  and  sensible  woman. 

The  little  dogs  had  long  ago  crept  into  their  basket  for  the 
night,  but  as  soon  as  they  scented  a  stranger,  j^lunged  with 
loud  yel])iug  past  their  mistress  into  the  court,  so  that  while 
Doris  was  answering  the  friendly  greeting  of  the  prefect,  she 
was  obliged  to  call  more  than  once  the  names  Euphrosyne, 
Aglaia,  and  Thalia. 

"  That  is  charming,''  cried  Hadrian,  looking  into  the  little 
house.  "  A  perfect  idyl.  Who  would  have  exjaected  to  find 
such  a  ludicrous  corner  of  peace  in  this  most  unquiet  and 
busiest  of  cities?" 

"  Pontius  and  I  were  surprised  in  the  same  way  by  this  little 
nest,  and  resolved  to  leave  it  untouched,"  said  the  jirefect. 

''  Sensible  people  understand  one  another,  and  I  owe  5^ou 
gratitude  for  sparing  this  house,"  answered  the  emjaeror. 
'  What  a  good  omen  it  is  for  me!  The  Graces  receive  me  on 
entering  these  old  walls." 

"  Joy  be  with  you,"  cried  Doris,  in  greeting. 

"  We  come  late,"  said  Hadrian. 

"  That  is  no  matter,"  answered  the  old  woman,  laughing. 
"  For  the  last  week  we  have  learned  to  make  no  diti'erence  be- 
tween day  and  night  on  the  Lochias;  and  blessings  are  never 
too  late." 

"  I  brinw  an  excellent  guest,"  said  Titianus — "  the  great 
Roman  arcliitect,  Claudius  Venator.  He  has  just  left  the 
ship." 

"  Then  a  swallow  of  wine  will  do  him  good.  We  have 
Mareotish  wine  in  the  house,  from  the  garden  of  my  daughter 
directly  on  the  sea.  If  your  friend  will  so  honor  humble  peo- 
ple, I  beg  you  to  enter.  It  is  neat  here,  sir,  and  the  cup  I  can 
offer  you  woidd  not  disgrace  the  emperor.  Who  knows  what 
you  may  find  in  the  frightful  whirl  yonder?" 

"  I  will  gladly  accept  your  invitation,  little  mother,"  replied 
Hadrian.  "'  It  is  easy  to  see  that  you  will  entertain  us  ghully, 
and  one  might  envy  your  little  home." 

**  It  will  be  i)rettier  when  the  climbmg  roses  and  the  honey- 


THE  EMPEROR.  91 

suckles  are  in  bloom,"  answered  Doris,  as  slie  filled  the  cuj). 
"  And  here  is  water  to  mix  with  it." 

The  emperor  took  the  cup  and  admired  it,  saying,  before  he 
touched  it  to  his  lips:  "  This  is  a  masterpiece,  mother,  what 
may  the  emperor  expect,  if  the  gate-keeper  be  so  served? 
Who  has  done  this  work?" 

"  My  son  cut  it  in  his  idle  hours." 

"He  is  an  excellent  sculptor,"  remarked  Titian  us.  After 
the  emperor  had  partly  emptied  the  cup  with  great  satisfac- 
tion, he  jilaced  it  on  the  table,  saying:  "  A  most  refreshing 
drink.     1  thank  you,  mother. " 

"And  I  thank  you  for  calling  me  mother.  There  is  no 
fairer  title  for  a  woman  who  has  brought  up  good  children, 
and  I  have  three  of  whom  I  need  not  be  ashamed." 

"  I  wish  you  joy  of  them  all,  little  mother,"  answered  the 
emperor.  "  We  shall  meet  again,  for  I  may  stay  some  time 
on  the  Lochias. " 

"  JSTow,  in  this  confusion?"  asked  Doris. 

"This  famous  architect,"  said  Titianus,  "will  assist  our 
excellent  Pontius. " 

"  He  needs  no  help,"  exclaimed  the  woman.  "He  is  a 
man  of  the  very  best  sort.  My  son  tells  me  that  his  thought- 
fulness  and  activity  are  imparalleled.  I  have  seen  him  myself 
when  giving  his  orders;  and  I  know  my  people." 

"  What  specially  pleases  you  in  Pontius?"  asked  Hadrian, 
who  enjoyed  the  unrestrained  manner  of  this  woman. 

"  He  never  loses  his  self-possession  in  all  this  whirl,  speaks 
neither  a  word  too  much  or  too  little,  can  be  severe  when  it  is 
necessary,  and  is  kind  toward  the  lowest.  What  he  does  in 
his  profession,  I  am  unable  to  judge,  but  I  know  him  to  be 
honest  and  reliable. " 

"  You  describe  him  correctly,^'  replied  the  emperor,  "  only 
I  had  thought  him  more  severe." 

"Everyman  must  be  harsh  sometimes,  but  he  is  so  only 
where  it  is  needful;  and  every  day  he  shows  us  how  kind  he 
can  be.  I  have  always  noticed  that  a  man  who  holds  himself 
apart  from  and  is  rude  toward  his  inferiors  is  not  great  in  him- 
self, and  seems  afraid  of  being  classed  with  them.  But  he 
who  is  truly  great,  does  not  hesitate  to  treat  us  as  equals.  It 
is  so  with  Pontius,  and  the  noble  Governor  Titianus,  and  with 
you  also,  I  dare  say,  since  you  are  his  friend.  You  are  heartily 
welcome,  but,  as  I  said  before,  Pontius  needs  no  help." 

"  You  do  not  comprehend  me  very  highly,  and  for  that  I 
am  sorry,  because  you  seem  to  have  lived  with  open  eyes,  and 
to  understand  human  nature." 


92  THE  EMPEROR. 

Doris  looked  at  tlie  cmi^eror  witli  searching  yet  friendly  eyes, 
and  answered  in  a  cautious  tone: 

"  You — you  arc  certainly  great,  and  it  may  be  will  perceive 
something  that  has  escaped  the  notice  of  Pontius.  There  are 
a  few  whom  the  muses  have  especially  endowed,  and  you  may 
be  one  of  them." 

"  Wliy  do  you  think  that?" 

"  I  know  from  the  glance  of  your  eye,  and  from  your  fore- 
head." 

"  Perhaps  you  have  the  gift  of  divination?" 

"  No,  notliing  of  that  sort;  but  I  have  two  sons  to  whom 
the  heavenly  powers  have  given  something  which  I  am  not  able 
to  describe,  and  those  in  whom  I  recognize  the  same  are  always 
first  among  their  own  circle.  And  I  am  willing  to  swear  that 
you  outrank  all  with  whom  you  associate. " 

"  Don't  handle  the  oaths  so  lightly,"  replied  the  emperor, 
laughing.  "  We  shall  speak  together  again;  and  when  I  leave 
the  Lochias  I  should  like  to  ask  if  you  have  not  been  disap- 
pointed in  me.  Come  now,  Telemachus,  you  seem  greatly 
charmed  with  the  birds  of  this  good  woman." 

Antinous,  to  whom  these  last  words  were  addressed,  had 
been  contemplating  the  feathered  pets  of  Doris,  going  from 
one  cage  to  another,  with  great  satisfaction. 

"  Is  that  your  son?"  asked  Doris. 

*'  No,  he  is  only  my  pupil,  but  I  love  him  as  if  he  were  my 
own  child." 

"  A  handsome  fellow." 

"  Look  to  it;  our  old  friend  has  her  eye  on  the  yoimg  men 
still." 

"  We  shall  not  give  that  up  before  the  end  of  a  century,  or 
until  the  Parcce  cuts  the  thread  of  our  life." 

"  What  a  confession!" 

"  Let  me  say  one  thing  more.  We  women  never  cease  to 
rejoice  in  u  handsome  youth,  but  only  Avhile  we  are  young  do 
we  ask  what  they  think  of  us;  in  our  old  age  we  are  quite  sat- 
isfied with  showing  them  kindness.  Listen,  young  man:  you 
will  always  find  me  here,  and  ready  to  do  anything  in  my 
power  for  your  comfort.  I  am  like  a  snail,  and  seldom  leave 
my  house." 

"  no})ing  to  meet  again,"  cried  Iladrian,  as  he  crossed  the 
court  with  his  companions.  Titianus  walked  in  advance  of 
Hadrian  and  Antinous,  and  but  a  few  words  were  exchanged 
betwft'M  tliem.  The  emperor  Avas  smiling  to  himself.  The 
opinii)ii  of  this  clever  woman,  out  of  tlie  common  jicoplc,  had 
given  hini  far  greater  pleasure  than  the  bombastic  compli- 


THE  EMPEROH.  93 

ments  of  Mesomedes  and  the  other  lyric  poets,  and  the  flatter- 
ing words  he  was  accustomed  to  hear  from  sophists  and  rheto- 
ricians. Doris  took  him  for  a  simple  architect.  She  could 
not  know  who  he  was,  or — had  Titianus  been  careless  of  his 
secret?  Did  the  woman  know,  or  even  guess,  with  whom  she 
was  talking?  The  suspicions  of  Hadrian  were  easily  roused, 
and  he  begaTi  to  think  the  words  of  the  woman  were  jjreparcd 
beforehand,  and  her  welcome  only  a  recitation. 

He  stopped  suddenly,  bidding  Titianus  and  Aiitinous  await 
his  return  with  the  dog,  and  went  back  to  the  little  house, 
creeping  along  in  a  manner  quite  unusual  for  princely  feet. 
He  stopped  before  the  still  open  door,  and  listened  to  the  con- 
versation within  between  Doris  and  her  husband. 

"  A  stately  man,"  said  Euphorion.  "  He  looks  a  little  like 
the  emperor.'' 

"  Not  much,"  answered  Doris,  "  Think  of  that  statue  in 
the  Paneum  Garden.  That  has  an  expression  of  discontent, 
and  of  sarcasm.  This  architect  has  a  thoughtful  brow,  but 
real  kind-heartedness  shines  through  his  features.  It  is  only 
about  the  beard  that  they  resemble  each  other.  Hadrian 
might  be  glad  to  look  as  well  as  this  guest  of  the  prefect. " 

''  Yes.,  he  is  much  handsomer — has — has — shall  I  express  it? 
—much  more  that  is  godlike  than  that  cold  marble  statue," 
declaimed  Euj^horion.  "A  great  gentleman,  certainly,  but 
still  a  sculptor.  I  wonder  if  he  might  not  be  persuaded 
through  Pontius,  Papias,  Aristeas,  or  some  one  of  the  great 
painters  to  take  the  joart  of  Calchas  in  our  festival.  He 
would  represent  the  character  much  better  than  that  withered 
ivory-cutter,  Philemon.  Eeach  me  my  lute.  I  have  forgotten 
again  the  beginning  of  that  last  verse.  Oh,  my  memory! 
Thank  you. " 

Euphorion  touched  the  strings  vigorously,  and  sung  with 
still  good  and  well-trained  voice: 

"  Sabina!  hail  to  thee,  Sabina!  Hail  to  the  victorious  and 
mighty  goddess,  Sabina!  If  Pollux  were  only  here  he  would 
help  me  to  remember  the  right  words.  '  Hail  to  the  hundred- 
times  victorious  Sabina!'  That  is  not  right.  '  Hail  to  the 
godlike  and  far-famed  victorious  Sabina!'  It  is  not  that, 
either.  If  a  crocodile  would  only  swallow  this  Sabina  I  would 
gladly  give  him  that  j)late  of  fresh  cakes  yonder  for  a  dessert. 
Now!  believe  I  have  it.  '  Hail,  a  hundred  times  hail,  to  the 
mighty  goddess,  Sabina!' " 

Hadrian  had  heard  enough.  While  Euphorion  was  trying 
to  fix  the  right  words  in  his  rebellious  memory,  he  turned  his 
back  on  the  gate-keeper's  house,  and,  with  his  companions. 


04  THE  EMPEROR. 

made  a  way — not  without  some  difficulty — through  the  crowd 
of  hiborers  on  the  i^avement.  More  than  once  he  tapjied 
Titianus  on  the  shoulder,  and,  as  they  received  the  greeting  of 
Pontius,  cried  out: 

"  I  am  more  glad  than  ever  that  I  determmed  to  come  now. 
It  has  been  a  good  evening;  a  most  excellent  evening." 

For  years  the  emijeror  had  not  seemed  so  cheerful  and  free 
from  care;  and  as,  in  spite  of  the  late  hour,  he  found  every- 
where the  workmen  still  busy,  and  saw  Avhat  they  were  plan- 
ning to  do  in  the  old  palace,  the  restless  man  gave  exjiression 
to  his  satisfaction,  saying  to  Antinous: 

' '  Here  is  a  good  lesson  as  to  what  wonders  can  be  accom- 

f)lished  through  good-will,  industry  and  skill.  Explain  to  me, 
'ontius,  how  you  constructed  this  giant  scaffolding. '' 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Only  a  part  of  the  night  hours  remained  after  this  cheerful 
entrance  of  the  emperor  into  the  half-finished  dwelling. 

Pontius  directed  a  suite  of  rooms  to  be  put  in  order,  which 
he  had  designed  for  the  use  of  the  nobles  in  Hadrian^s  suite, 
from  one  window  of  which  was  a  fine  view  of  the  harbor  and 
the  island  of  Antirrhodus. 

The  good  bed  whichihe  prefect  had  sent  to  Lochias  for  his 
own  use  was  carried  into  the  sleeping-room  of  the  emperor; 
while  in  others  the  field-beds  were  spread  for  the  use  of  An- 
tinous and  the  rest  of  the  j^arty.  Tables,  cushions,  and  other 
furniture  which  had  been  already  delivered  from  the  Alexan- 
drian factories  for  the  furnishing  of  the  palace,  and  which 
stood  unopened  in  boxes  and  bales  within  the  gi-eat  middle 
court,  were  quickly  unpacked,  and  such  as  were  apjaropriate 
placed  in  the  emperor's  apartments.  Before  Hadrian,  con- 
ducted by  the  jirefect,  had  been  through  the  rooms  Avhere  re- 
pairs were  going  on,  Pontius  had  completed  his  arrangements, 
and  informed  his  guests  that  he  had  done  the  best  possible  for 
this  night,  but  promised  on  the  next  day  a  more  properly 
furnished  apartment. 

"Excellent,  excellent!"  exclaimed  the  monarch,  as  he  en- 
tered the  one  appropriated  to  himself;  ''one  would  believe 
you  had  the  demons  of  industry  under  call.  Pour  water  over 
mv  hands,  master,  and  then  to  supper!  I  am  hungry  as  the 
dog  of  a  beggar. " 

I  think  we  shall  find  something  to  satisfy  you,"  answered 
Titianus.     "  Have  you  eaten  all  sent  you  to-day,  Pontius?" 

'*  Unfortunately,  I  have,"  answered  Pontius,  sighing. 


THE  EMPEROE.  95 

"  But  I  ordered  a  meal  for  five." 

"  It  has  filled  six  hungry  artisans/'  returned  Pontius.  "  Had 
I  only  surmised  for  whom  so  much  food  was  provided!  But 
what  shall  we  do  now?  There  is  bread  and  wine  in  the  Hall 
of  the  Muses — meanwhile — " 

"  That  must  answer,"  said  the  emperor,  as  he  wiped  his  face. 
"  In  the  Dacian  war,  in  Numidia,  and  often  while  hunting,  I 
have  been  glad  to  find  either  one  of  these  23 revisions." 

Antinous,  who  was  very  tired  and  hungry,  looked  troubled. 
AVhen  Hadrian  saw  this,  he  said,  laughingly: 

"  The  youth  needs  something  more  than  bread  and  wine. 
You  showed  me  while  we  were  looking  about,  an  entrance  to 
the  dwelling  of  the  palace  overseer.  Would  it  be  jDossible  to 
find  there  a  bit  of  meat,  or  cheese,  or  something  of  the  sort?" 

"  Scarcely,"  answered  Pontius;  "  for  the  man  fills  his  own 
immense  stomach  and  the  mouths  of  eight  children  with  bread 
and  porridge.     However,  we  can  but  try. " 

"  Then  send,  but  lead  us  directly  to  the  hall  where  the 
muses  are  guarding  our  bread  and  wine.  This  they  do  not 
always  furnish  their  disciples." 

On  their  way  to  the  hall,  Hadrian  asked  of  Pontius: 

"  Is  the  overseer  of  this  palace  so  poorly  paid  that  he  is 
forced  to  such  a  meager  diet?" 

''  He  has  a  dwelling  without  rent,  and  two  hundred  drachmas 
a  month. " 

"  That  is  not  so  small.  Who  is  the  man,  and  what  sort  of 
person  is  he?" 

"His  name  is  Keraunus,  and  he  comes  of  old  Macedonian 
stock.  His  ancestors  have  held  the  same  office — no  one  knows 
how  long  —  and  he  boasts  of  relationshij)  to  the  Lagides, 
through  a  mistress  of  some  one  of  the  dead  kings.  Keraunus 
has  a  seat  in  the  council,  and  never  goes  out  without  his  slaves, 
who  come  from  that  class  the  dealers  throw  in  to  their  cus- 
tomers when  making  a  bargain.  He  is  fat  as  a  marmot; 
dresses  like  a  senator — is  very  fond  of  relics  and  varieties — for 
which  he  would  spend  his  last  penny.  He  bears  poverty  with 
more  haughtiness  than  dignity;  but  is,  after  all,  an  honest 
man,  who  can  be  made  useful,  if  managed  rightly." 

''So  he  is  another  odd  fellow!  You  say  he  is  fat.  Is  he 
jolly?" 

"  Nothing  less  than  that." 

"  Fat  and  surly  people  are  my  abhorrence.  But  what  sort 
of  structure  have  you  here?" 

*'  Behind  this  "frame-work  is  one  of  the  best  pupils  of 


96  THE  EMPEROR. 

Papias.     His  name  is  Pollux,  and  he  is  a  son  of  the  gate- 
keeper.    You  will  like  him." 
Call  him/'  said  the  emperor. 

But  before  Pontius  could  do  this,  the  head  of  Pollux  ap- 
peared above  the  frame-work.  His  attention  liad  been  at- 
tracted by  the  voices  and  footsteps,  and  after  having  saluted 
the  prefect,  and  satisfied  his  curiosity,  he  was  about  to  spring 
back  from  the  high  stool  upon  which  he  had  mounted,  when 
Pontius  called,  saying  that  the  Roman  architect  wished  to 
make  his  acquaintance. 

"  That  is  kind  of  him,"'  answered  Pollux,  ''  and  more  espe- 
cially kind  of  you,  for  only  through  you  could  he  learn  that 
such  a  being  walks  under  the  moon,  and  has  learned  to  use 
hammer  and  chisel.  Let  me  descend  from  my  four-legged 
cothurn,  for  now  you  are  obliged  to  look  up  at  me,  but  after 
that  the  order  will  be  inverted." 

"  Stay  where  you  are,"  answered  Hadrian.  "  There  is  no 
formality  among  fellow-artists.  What  are  you  doing  in  there?" 

*'  I  will  push  back  my  covering  to  show  you  our  Urania. 
It  will  be  good  to  hear  an  opinion  from  one  who  understands 
such  work." 

"  Afterward,  my  friend,  afterward;  first  let  me  have  a  bit  of 
bread,  lest  the  fierceness  of  my  hunger  should  influence  my 
criticism. " 

During  these  words  Pontius  had  brought  to  the  emperor  a 
salver  containing  bread,  salt,  and  a  cuj)  of  wine.  As  Pollux 
noticed  the  meager  meal,  he  cried  out: 

"  That  is  prison  fare,  Pontius;  have  we  nothing  better  in 
the  house?" 

"  I  susj^ect  that  you  had  a  share  in  annihilating  the  excel- 
lent dishes  I  sent  to  Pontius,"  said  the  prefect,  threatening 
Pollux  with  his  finger. 

*'  You  spoil  a  delightful  memory,"  sighed  the  sculptor,  with 
comical  woe. 

"  By  Hercules,  I  did  have  a  share  in  that  work  of  annihila- 
tion. Had  we  only —  But  stop!  An  idea  comes  to  me  which 
would  be  worthy  of  Aristotle.  The  breakfast,  Pontius,  to 
which  I  have  invited  you  stands  all  ready  in  my  mother's  cup- 
board, and  can  be  warmed  over  in  a  very  few  moments.  Do 
not  be  frightened,  sir.  I  refer  to  a  dish  of  cabbage  and 
sausages,  Avhich,  like  the  soul  of  an  Egyptian,  possesses  in  its 
resurrection  nobler  (jualities  than  when  it  first  saw  the  light." 

"  ExcellentI"  cried  Hadrian,  with  a  smile;  but  he  laughed 
aloud  as  he  heard  an  exclamation  of  joy  from  the  lips  of  An- 
tinous,  who  now  a])proaclied. 


THE  EMPEROK.  97 

"  Another  palate  revels  in  hajDj^y  anticij)ation,"  said  the 
emperor  to  the  prefect,  pointing  to  his  favorite. 

But  he  had  misunderstood  the  sense  of  that  exclamation; 
for  the  name  of  this  homely  dish,  which  Antinous  had  often 
seen  upon  the  table  of  his  mother's  poor  house  in  Bithynia, 
carried  him  back  to  the  home  of  his  childhood,  and  into  the 
midst  of  his  kindred. 

A  quick  movement  of  the  heart,  more  than  delight  of  the 
palate,  had  pressed  the  "  Ah!"  from  his  lips.  Yet  he  rejoiced 
in  the  prospect  of  sharing  this  provision,  and  would  not  have 
exchanged  it  for  the  costliest  banquet. 

Pollux  had  come  out  of  his  inclosure,  and  said:  "  In  a  quar- 
ter of  an  hour  I  shall  be  here  with  my  breakfast  tvn-ned  into  a 
supper.  Do  but  stay  your  hunger  witli  the  bread  and  salt,  for 
tbis  food  my  mother  has  prepared  will  not  only  satisfy  hunger 
but  furnish  enjoyment. " 

"  Salute  Mother  Doris,"  cried  Hadrian,  as  he  left  the  hall, 
and  then  turning  to  Titianus  and  Pontius  said: 

"  A  fine  fellow.  I  am  curious  to  see  what  he  can  do  as  a 
sculptor. " 

"  Then  follow  me,"  said  Pontius,  leading  Hadrian  behind 
the  screen. 

"  What  do  you  say  to  this  Urania?  The  head  is  the  work 
of  Pa|)ias,  but  the  body  of  the  figure  and  the  drapery  Pollux 
has  done  independently  within  a  very  few  days."  The  im- 
perial critic  stood  looking  at  the  statue  for  some  time  silently, 
with  folded  arms.  Then  he  nodded  approvingly,  and  said,  in 
an  earnest  tone: 

"A  deeply  thoughtful  and  wonderfully  free  work.  This 
drapery  over  the  bust  would  not  disgrace  Phidias.  All  is 
great,  original,  and  true!  Had  the  young  master  a  model 
here,  on  the  Lochias?" 

"  I  have  seen  no  one,  and  think  he  modeled  the  figure  en- 
tirely out  of  his  own  head,"  answered  Pontius. 

"  That  is  impossible,"  cried  the  emperor,  in  the  tone  of  a 
connoisseur.  "  Even  Praxiteles  could  not  have  invented  such 
lines — such  folds.  It  must  have  been  formed  after  a  living 
model.  We  will  ask  him.  What  is  to  be  made  out  of  this 
newly  jDrepared  mass  of  clay?" 

"  Perhaps  the  bust  of  a  princess  from  the  Lagides.  To- 
morrow you  shall  see  a  head  of  Berenice  made  by  our  young 
friend,  which  seems  to  me  among  the  best  ever  done  in  Alex- 
andria." 

''  Does  the  fellow  practice  magic?"  asked  Hadrian.  "  It  is 
simply  impossible  that  lie  can  liave  made  this  Urania,  and  a 


98  THE   "FirPEROR. 

complete  female  head,  within  these  few  days/'  Pontius  ex- 
plained to  the  emperor  that  ho  had  only  jilaccd  the  head  upon 
a  bust,  already  in  position,  and  went  on  to  make  known  to 
him,  while  answering  without  hesitation  all  his  questions,  the 
varied  devices  by  which  alone  they  could  give  this  dilapidated 
building  an  appearance  of  respectability  within  so  short  a  time. 
And  he  spoke  as  freely  with  Hadrian  of  all  these  matters  as 
he  would  have  done  with  any  intelligent  fellow-workman. 

The  prefect,  meanwhile,  was  listening  to  the  details  of  their 
traveling  experience  from  Plilegon,  the  private  secretary  of 
the  emperor. 

Both  these  conversations  were  interrupted  by  the  appearance 
of  Pollux  in  the  hall,  accompanied  by  his  father. 

The  musician  bore  a  streaming  dish,  fresh  cakes,  and  the 
pasty  which  he  had  carried  home  to  his  wife  a  few  hours  be- 
fore. Pollux  brought  a  large  two-handled  tankard,  filled  with 
Mareotish  wine,  around  which  he  had  twined  hastily  branches 
of  green  ivy. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  emperor  was  reclining  upon  a  cush- 
ion that  had  been  placed  for  him,  and  busily  at  work  upon  the 
savory  dish.  He  was  in  his  happiest  mood;  called  Antinous, 
the  physician,  and  Phlegon  to  his  side,  and  laid  jjortions  of 
food  ujion  the  j^lates,  which  he  insisted  they  should  pass  to 
him,  lest,  as  he  said,  they  should  fish  out  the  best  sausages. 
He  also  made  a  valiant  attack  upon  the  contents  of  the  tank- 
ard. 

When  it  came  time  to  open  the  pasty  his  face  took  on  a 
different  exjiression. 

His  brow  contracted,  and  turning  to  the  prefect  he  asked,  in 
a  severe  tone: 

"  How  come  these  peojjle  by  such  food?" 

"  Where  did  you  get  this  pasty,  Euphorion?"  asked  Titi- 
anus. 

"  It  came  from  the  banquet  Pontius  gave  this  evening  to  the 
artisans.  The  three  Graces  disjjosed  of  the  bones,  and  this 
pasty,  which  had  been  left  untouched,  was  given  to  me  for  my 
wife.     She  gladly  devotes  it  to  the  guest  of  Pontius.'' 

Titianus  laughed. 

"  This  explains  the  disappearance  of  the  rich  meal  we  sent 
to  the  architect.  This  pasty — allow  me  to  look  at  it — was 
prepared  after  a  recipe  of  Verus,  He  invited  himself  yester- 
day to  breakfast  with  us,  and  instructed  my  cook  how  to  pre- 
pare it." 

"  No  discijilc  of  Plato  proclaims  more  diligently  the  doc- 
trines of  his  master  than  Verus  the  excellence  of  this  dish,"  ex- 


THE  EMPEROR.  99 

claimed  the  emperor,  who  had  recovered  his  cheerfulness  so 
soon  as  he  saw  there  was  no  contrivance  to  deceive  him. 
"What  folhes  occupy  this  spoiled  child  of  fortune!  Does 
he  cook  now  entirely  with  his  own  hands?" 

"  Not  at  all/'  answered  the  prefect.  "  A  couch  was  carried 
into  the  kitchen,  upon  which  he  reclined  while  directing  my 
cook  how  to  prej)are  this,  which  is  reported  to  be  your — I 
mean  is  reported  to  be  a  favorite  dish  of  the  emperor.  It 
is  composed  of  pheasant,  ham,  udder,  and  flaky  pie-cru^. " 

"  I  agree  with  Hadrian's  taste,"  said  the  emperor,  laugh- 
ing, and"  proceeding  to  do  honor  to  it.  "You  entertain  me 
bountifully,  my  friend,  and  make  me  your  debtor.  What  is 
your  name,  young  man?" 

"  I  am  called  Pollux." 

"  Yom-  Urania,  Pollux,  is  a  good  work.  Pontius  says  you 
have  arranged  the  drapery  without  any  model;  but  I  say 
again,  as  I  did  to  him,  that  is  impossible." 

"  You  said  right.     A  young  maiden  stood  for  it." 

Hadrian  looked  at  the  architect,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  I  told 
you  so. " 

Pontius  asked  in  surprise:  "  But  when?  I  have  never  seen 
a  female  here." 

"Quite  lately." 

"  But  I  have  not  left  the  Lochias  even  for  a  moment,  and 
have  not  been  to  rest  before  midnight,  and  am  always  on  my 
legs  again  long  before  sunrise." 

"  Still  there  lie  a  few  hours  between  your  sleeping  and  your 
waking,"  answered  Pollux. 

"Ah,  these  young  people!"- cried  the  emperor,  while  a 
satirical  smile  played  about  his  lips. 

"  Separate  Damon  and  Pythias  by  iron  gates,  and  they  would 
contrive  to  meet  through  the  key-hole!" 

Euphorion  looked  questioningly  at  his  son,  and  the  architect 
made  some  further  inquiries;  but  Hadrian  rose  from  his  couch, 
giving  Antinous  and  Phlegon  permission  to  retire,  begged 
Titian  us  with  friendly  tone  to  return  to  his  home,  and  asked 
Pollux  to  take  him  into  his  working  inclosure,  since  he  did 
■^  not  feel  weary,  and  was  accustomed  to  only  a  few  hours  of 
sleep. 

Pollux  was  greatly  attracted  to  this  man.  He  had  not 
failed  to  notice  how  much  the  gray-haired  stranger  resembled 
the  emperor;  but  Pontius  had  prepared  him  for  this,  and 
there  was  in  the  eyes  and  about  the  mouth  of  the  Koman 
architect  something  he  had  not  seen  in  any  portrait  of  the 
emperor.     His  respect  mcreased  as  they  stood  together  beside 


100  THE   EMPEROR. 

the  scarcely  finished  statue;  for  he  pointed  out  to  him  a  few 
faults,  while  praising  its  general  correctness;  and  he  gave  in  a 
few  terse  sentences  his  own  conception  of  Urania.  Then  he 
developed  concisely  his  own  theories  of  the  relation  between 
the  artist  and  his  work. 

The  heart  of  the  young  man  beat  faster,  and  the  blood 
leaped  tlirough  his  veins,  as  he  heard  from  those  bearded 
lips  thoughts  and  feelings  of  which  he  had  often  been  dumbly 
conscious,  but  had  never  sought  to  express. 

And  how  kindly  the  great  man  received  his  timid  sugges- 
tions, and  how  striking  were  his  answers  I  He  had  never  be- 
fore met  such  a  man — never  before  so  recognized  the  superi- 
ority of  another  spirit. 

Two  hours  after  midnight  had  already  struck,  when  Hadrian 
stop})t'd  before  the  roughly  outlined  bust  of  fresh  clay,  and 
asked  of  Pollux: 

"  AVhat  are  you  going  to  do  with  this?" 

"  Make  the  image  of  a  woman." 

"  Probably  your  courageous  model,  who  ventures  ujDon  the 
Lochias  in  the  night-time?" 

"  ]S'o,  a  lady  of  rank  will  sit  to  me." 

''  From  Alexandria?" 

''  Oh,  no.     A  beauty  from  the  retinue  of  the  empress." 

"  AVhat  is  her  name?    I  know  all  the  Eoman  women." 

*'Balbilla." 

''  Balbilla?  There  are  several  of  that  name.  Can  you  tell 
me  how  she  looks?"  asked  Hadrian,  with  a  mischievous  smile. 

"  That  is  more  easily  asked  than  answered,"  replied  Pollux, 
who  had  recovered  his  liveliness  with  the  emjjeror's  smile. 
"  But  wait!  Have  you  seen  peacocks  spread  their  tails  like  a 
wheel?  Think,  then,  if  each  eye  in  the  tail  of  that  bird  of 
Hera  were  a  little  round  curl,  and  under  the  wheel  was  a 
charming  and  clever  girFs  face,  with  a  jolly  little  nose,  and 
rather  too  high  a  forehead,  then  you  will  have  a  picture  of  the 
noble  lady  who  has  jjersuaded  me  to  make  a  bast  of  herself." 

Hadrian  laughed  aloud,  threw  oif  his  pallium,  and  cried: 

*'  Stand  back.  I  think  I  know  the  girl.  If  I  am  mistaken, 
you  shall  tell  me. " 

While  speaking,  he  had  seized  the  pliant  clay  with  his  nerv- 
ous hands,  and  knetiding  it  like  a  well-trained  sculptor,  cutting 
off  here  and  adding  there,  he  shaped  a  woman's  face  with  a 
mighty  structure  of  curls  above,  that  looked  like  Balbilla,  but 
with  every  peculiarity  of  feature  so  ridiculously  distorted  that 
Pollux  could  not  restrain  his  amusement. 


THE   EMPEROTl.  101 

As  Hadrian  stepped  back  from  his  completed  caricature, 
aud  asked  if  that  v/ere  the  Roman  lady,  Pollux  cried: 

"  So  surely  as  you  are  a  great  architect  and  a  master  of 
sculpture. " 

The  emperor  seemed  greatly  to  relish  his  own  joke,  for  he 
looked  at  the  image,  and  laughed  over  and  over. 

It  affected  Pontius  quite  differently.  He  had  followed  with 
appreciative  interest  the  conversation  of  Hadriau  with  the 
sculptor,  and  had  watched  the  commencement  of  the  image. 
Afterward,  he  had  turned  away,  for  he  hated  that  distortion 
of  beautiful  forms  so  common  in  Egypt.  It  was  to  him 
literally  painful  to  see  the  image  of  a  richly  gifted  and  defense- 
less creature,  to  whom  also  he  was  bound  by  ties  of  gratitude, 
put  to  shame  by  such  a  man  as  the  emperor.  He  had  met 
Balbilla  for  the  first  time  that  day,  but  through  Titiauus  had 
learned  of  her  residence  at  the  Caesareum,  among  the  fol- 
lowers of  the  empress,  and  also  that  she  was  the  granddaugh- 
ter of  the  governor,  Claudius  Balbillus,  who  had  given  freedom 
to  his  grandfather,  a  learned  Greek  slave. 

He  had  met  her  with  feelings  of  gratitude  and  of  devotion; 
her  cheerful  nature  had  greatly  pleased  liim;  and  with  every 
word  from  her  lips  he  felt  himself  drawn  toward  her,  as  if 
through  ties  of  blood  or  long-established  friendship.  The 
familiar  mauuer  of  the  wanton  Verus  toward  her  had  annoyed 
him,  aud  after  the  royal  party  left  the  Lochias  his  thoughts 
had  often  recurred  to  it,  and  he  resolved  to  have  an  eye  on 
this  grandchild  of  his  benefactor  whenever  it  was  possible. 
It  seemed  a  sacred  duty  to  defend  her,  as  he  would  have  de- 
fended a  beautiful  and  unj^rotected  singing  bird.  The  em- 
peror's caricature  seemed  to  him  like  the  desecration  of  some- 
thiug  holy;  and  as  he  stood  amused  with  his  own  hateful 
performance,  Pontius  felt  hurt,  as  do  all  noble  natures  in  dis- 
covering that  which  is  petty  and  mean  in  a  being  they  have 
honored.  As  a  sculptor,  if  not  as  a  man,  the  emperor  had 
dared  to  insult  the  undefended  beauty. 

A  shade  of  aversion  rose  in  the  soul  of  Pontius  toward  one 
for  whom  he  had  before  felt  only  warmest  admiration,  and  he 
was  glad  when  Hadrian  at  last  proposed  retiring  to  rest. 

The  emperor  found  all  the  provision  for  comfort  in  his  slsep- 
ing-room  to  which  he  was  accustomed ;  and  as  his  slave  Mastor 
removed  his  garments,  lighted  his  night-lamp,  and  shook  up 
the  pillows,  he  said: 

"  This  is  the  best  evening  I  have  spent  in  years.  Is  An- 
tinous  well  provided?'' 

"  As  in  Rome." 


102  THE  EMPEROR. 

"  And  the  Molossian?" 

*'  I  will  i)lace  his  mat  in  the  passage  before  your  door.'' 

"  Has  he  been  fed?" 

*'  Yes,  with  bones,  bread  and  water." 

"  I  trust  you  have  had  supper?" 

**  I  was  not  hungry;  the  bread  and  wine  were  enough." 

"  To-morrow  all  will  be  better  arranged.  Be  careful  of 
your  words  not  to  betray  me.  A  few  days  here,  without  in- 
terruption, would  be  worth  very  much  to  me.  Now,  good- 
night." 

\Vith  these  words  the  emperor  laid  liimself  upon  his  bed, 
and  was  soon  asleep. 

The  slave  also  laid  himself  down  for  the  night,  after  spread- 
ing a  mat  for  the  dog  just  outside  the  emperor's  door. 

His  pillow  was  a  tough  leathern  shield  supported  by  a  sword. 
This  was  a  poor  bed,  but  for  years  Master  had  kuown  notliing 
better,  and  he  usually  enjoyed  there  the  dreamless  sleep  of  a 
child;  but  to-night  his  eyes  could  not  close,  and  with  his  baud 
he  wiped  away  the  salt  tears  that  repeatedly  gathered  in  them. 
He  had  bravely  held  them  back  until  now;  for  the  emperor 
wanted  only  cheerful  faces  among  his  attendants.  He  had 
once  said  to  Master  that  he  had  chosen  him  for  the  sake  of  his 
mirthful  eyes. 

The  poor,  light-hearted  Mastor!  He  was  only  a  slave,  but 
he  had  also  a  heart  which  stood  open  to  sorrow  and  joy,  mirth 
and  woe,  to  hatred  and  to  love.  While  a  child  his  native  vil- 
lage fell  into  the  hands  of  enemies  to  his  race;  he  and  his - 
brother  were  taken  as  slaves,  first  to  Asia  Minor,  and  then,  be- 
cause they  were  pretty,  fair-haired  boys,  to  Eome.  There  they 
were  bought  for  the  emperor.  Mastor  became  his  body-sei-v- 
ftnt;  his  brother  worked  in  the  gardens.  Nothing  was  wanting 
to  their  comfort  except  freedom — their  only  unsatisfied  want, 
the  longing  for  home. 

Even  this  disappeared  after  Mastor  had  married  the  pretty 
daughter  of  the  head-gardener,  with  bright  eyes  that  peered 
everywhere.  His  service  as  a  slave  allowed  little  time  for  the 
company  of  his  wife  and  the  two  children  she  had  borne  him; 
but  the  consciousness  of  possessing  them  made  him  happy 
when  absent  with  the  emperor  upon  hunting  expeditions,  or 
traveling  through  the  empire.  For  seven  months  he  had  heard 
nothing  of  his  family,  but  at  Pelusium  a  letter  reached  hnn 
that  had  come  with  the  emperor's  dispatches  from  Ostia. 

He  could  not  read,  and  owing  to  the  hasty  departure  of 
Hadrian,  it  was  only  after  reaching  the  Lochias  tluit  the  oj)- 
portunity  came  to  learn  its  contents.     Antiuous  had  read  it 


THE   EMPEROR.  103 

aloud,  after  returning  from  his  supper  in  the  Hall  of  the 
Muses.  It  was  from  his  brother,  and  had  been  written  by  a 
public  scribe.  But  the  letter  was  enough  to  break  his  heart. 
His  pretty  little  wife  was  wandering  about  the  world  with  a 
Greek  ship-captain,  with  whom  she  had  left  his  house  and  the 
service  of  the  emperor.  His  oldest — his  boy,  the  darling  of 
his  heart — was  dead,  and  the  fair-haired,  delicate  little  Tullia, 
with  the  white  teeth  and  plumjD  arms,  and  the  dainty  little 
fingers,  which  so  often  had  i>retended  to  pull  his  shorn  locks, 
or  stroked  them  gently,  had  been  carried  to  the  miserable  house 
for  the  orjihans  of  deceased  slaves.  Two  hours  ago  he  had 
been  picturing  to  himself  his  home,  and  the  dear  circle  there. 
Now  all  that  was  gone,  and  though  the  deepest  grief  beat  on 
his  soul  with  merciless  fist,  he  dared  not  sob  or  groan,  or  even 
toss  from  side  to  side,  driven  by  the  tempest  within,  for  his 
master  was  a  light  sleeper,  and  was  roused  by  the  slightest 
sound.  And  at  sunrise  he  must  wear  a  cheerful  face  again; 
yet  it  seemed  to  him  now  that  he  too  would  be  crushed  in  the 
wreck  of  his  home  and  of  all  his  heart  held  dear.  The  paiji 
tore  his  heart,  but  he  did  not  groan  or  make  any  outward  sign. 


CHAPTER  Xni. 

This  night  had  been  as  sleepless  for  Selene,  the  palace  over- 
seer's daughter,  as  for  the  poor  slave.  Her  father's  idle  wish 
to  have  Arsinoe  take  part  in  the  aj^proaching  festival  with  the 
daughters  of  the  wealthy  citizens  filled  her  heart  with  a  new 
anxiety.  This  was  the  final  blow  which  must  plunge  the 
already  weakened  structure  of  their  domestic  life  into  disgrace 
and  poverty.  If  the  last  piece  of  value  were  to  be  sold,  and 
the  creditors  should  have  no  more  patience,  but  seize  upon  her 
father  and  send  him  to  the  debtors'  2:)rison,  during  the  presence 
of  the  emperor,  was  it  not  certain  that  another  overseer  would 
be  put  into  his  place,  and  she,  with  her  brothers  and  sisters, 
plunged  into  hoi^eless  misery? 

There  lay  Arsinoe  at  her  side,  sleeping  as  sweetly  and  quietly 
as  the  blind  Helios  and  the  other  little  ones.  Before  going  to 
bed  she  had  spoken  earnestly  to  the  thoughtless  girl  and  tried 
to  persuade  her,  yea,  had  urged  and  pleaded  with  her  to  re- 
fuse, as  she  herself  had  done,  to  take  any  share  in  this  festiv- 
ity; but  Arsinoe  had  at  first  refused  to  listen,  and  then  had 
wept,  but  at  last  comforted  herself  with  the  hope  that  some 
way  might  be  found— at  any  rate,  what  her  father  allowed, 
Selene  had  no  right  to  forbid  or  trouble  herself  about.  Selene 
might  have  gained  more  iuflnencc  over  lier  sister  had  she    not 


104  THE  EMPEROR. 

repelled  her  by  an  air  of  superiority  and  a  sobriety  that  had 
come  from  riper  age  and  a  life  of  care.  Scarcely  a  day  passed 
without  unpleasant  words  and  tears  between  these  two.  Arsinoe 
was  always  the  first  to  offer  the  hand  of  reconciliation,  but 
Selene  seldom  uttered,  as  her  kindhest  word,  more  than: 
"  Let  it  pass  now,"  or,  '*  I  know  that  already."  Their  inter- 
course bore  the  stamp  of  unkindncss,  which  might  easily  grow 
into  hostility.  Many  times  they  went  to  bed  without  a  "  Good- 
night," and  still  oftener  omitted  the  morning  salutation. 
Arsinoe,  Avho  loved  to  talk,  was  usually  silent  in  the  presence 
of  Selene,  who  had  little  pleasure  in  those  things  Avhieh  gen- 
erally interest  the  young;  while  Arsinoe  found  joy  in  all. 

In  the  care  of  the  younger  children,  the  same  difference  was 
apparent.  The  elder  looked  after  the  clothing,  the  food,  and 
the  absolute  necessities  of  life.  She  watched  over  their  con- 
duct with  strictness,  seeking  to  eradicate  the  germs  of  future 
evil.  Arsinoe  dressed  their  dolls  and  shared  their  play.  Her 
invariable  good  humor,  her  kisses  and  pleasant  words  gained 
what  Selene  often  failed  to  secure  by  severity  and  fault  find- 
ing. Arsinoe  won  their  hearts,  and  they  would  run  to  meet 
her  whenever  she  appeared,  while  Selene  must  call  every  time 
she  desired  their  presence.  To  her,  it  seemed  bitter  and  un- 
just that  Arsinoe  should  secure,  through  merely  idle  play,  a 
sweeter  reward  than  she  could  attain  by  all  her  hours  of  care, 
and  anxiety,  and  labor,  which  often  lasted  far  into  the  night. 

But  in  Ithis  children  are  not  far  from  right.  They  are 
guided  more  by  the  heart  than  the  head,  and  Avhoever  gives 
them  sincere  love  is  sure  to  receive  the  same  in  return. 

Certainly  to-night  Selene  looked  on  her  slumbering  compan- 
ion with  little  sisterly  feeling,  for  the  words  which  had  passed 
between  them  sounded  very  unkind.  Still  they  did  love  each 
other;  and  whoever  should  have  thought  to  speak  hiu>hly  of 
one  in  the  presence  of  the  other  would  have  quickly  learned 
that  a  strong  inward  bond  held  their  hearts  together. 

No  nineteen-year-old  girl  spends  a  whole  night  without  sleep, 
however  restless  and  troubled. 

In  her  short  snatches  Selene  dreamed  of  her  sister.  Once 
she  saw  her  dressed  as  a  queen,  and  followed  by  a  crowd  of 
beggar-children  with  insulting  words;  then  she  saw  her  on 
the  bastion,  beating  the  bust  of  their  mother  to  pieces,  while 
she  jested  with  Pollux.  Again  she  herself  seemed  to  be  play- 
ing in  the  garden  of  the  gate-keei)er,  as  she  had  often  done  in 
her  childhood.  She  was  making  cakes  of  sand  with  Pollux, 
and  as  soon  as  they  were  finished,  Arsinoe  sprimg  upon  tliem 
and  trampled  them  to  pieces. 


THE  EMPEROE.  105 

Selene  always  dreamed  now.  It  was  long  since  she  had 
known  truly  refreshing  sleejj.  And  the  dreams  were  generally 
of  a  sorrowful  sort,  and  often  so  terrifying  that  she  was 
wakened  by  her  own  groans,  or  by  the  frightened  cry  of 
Arsinoe.  The  sounds  never  disturbed  the  father;  for  he  began 
to  snore  as  soon  as  he  fell  asleep,  and  did  not  leave  off  until  he 
woke  in  the  morning. 

Selene  was  the  first  one  up  in  the  house.  To-day  the  dawn 
was  hailed  as  a  deliverance.  It  was  still  dark  when  she  rose, 
but  the  December  day  was  short;  and  without  disturbing  the 
other  sleepers,  she  lighted  her  lamp,  washed  her  face,  and  ar- 
ranged her  hair;  then  knocked  on  the  door  to  waken  the  old 
slaves.  After  they  had  sleepily  answered  her  call,  she  took  a 
pitcher  and  went  out  to  bring  fresh  water  for  her  father. 

The  best  supjDly  of  w^ater  for  the  palace  was  to  be  found  on 
a  little  terrace  upon  the  western  side.  It  was  from  the  works 
of  the  city,  and  was  brought  by  pipes  emptying  their  contents 
through  figures  of  curious  composite  design,  which  carried  a 
mussel  shell  at  the  end  of  their  long  twisted  fishy  tails:  in  each 
shell  lay  a  bearded  river  god.  The  heads  of  the  figures  resem- 
bled horses,  and  they  spirted  water  into  a  basin,  which  in  the 
course  of  a  century  had  become  filled  with  a  green,  slimy  vege- 
tation. To  reach  this,  it  was  necessary  to  pass  through  the 
corridor  on  which  opened  the  apartments  of  the  emperor  and 
his  companions.  Selene  only  knew  that  an  architect  from 
Home  had  come  late  to  the  Lochias,  for  she  had  been  solicited 
after  midnight  to  supj^ly  him  with  meat,  but  in  what  part  of 
the  palace  the  strangers  were  lodged  no  one  told  her. 

But  as  she  to-day  went,  along  her  accustomed  route,  a  feel- 
ing of  anxiety  took  possession  of  her.  There  was  a  sense  of 
something  unusual,  and  when  she  set  her  foot  on  the  steps 
leading  up  to  the  passage  a  rustling  sound  caused  her  to  raise 
the  lamp  above  her  head,  in  order  to  ascertain  its  source, 
when  suddenly  there  came  plunging  toward  her  something 
huge,  frightful:  in  the  dim  light  it  seemed  much  larger  than  a 
dog. 

Her  blood  was  congealed  by  terror.  She  stood  riveted  to  the 
spot,  but  conscious  that  the  growling  and  gnashing  threatened 
her  with  evil.  At  last  she  found  strength  to  turn  for  flight, 
but  in  the  same  instant  a  frightful  roar  sounded  behind,  and 
she  heard  the  quick  leap  of  the  monster  on  the  stone  pave- 
ment. Then  she  was  violently  thrown  down.  The  pitcher 
flew  from  her  hand,  and  was  broken  into  a  thousand  pieces. 

Her  scream  of  terror  was  echoed  from  the  hard,  naked  walls 
of  the  passageway,  and  awoke  the  sleepers  on  each  side. 


106  THE   EMPEBOR. 

"  See  what  it  is!''  cried  Hadrian  to  his  slave,  who  had 
already  sjirung  up,  seizing  shield  and  sword. 

**  The  Molossian  has  attacked  a  woman  whowidied  to  pass/' 
answered  Mastor. 

"  Call  him  back,  hut  do  not  strike  him,"  cried  the  emperor 
as  he  went  out.     "  Argus  has  only  done  his  duty. " 

The  slave  hastened  as  iast  as  possible  along  the  passage,  call- 
ing the  dog  by  name.  But  Antinous  had  already  interfered  to 
rescue  his  victim.  He  had  rushed  out  of  his  room  on  hearing 
Selene's  cry  of  distress,  to  find  the  savage  creature  snarling 
and  gnashing  his  teeth  over  the  prostrate  form  of  a  swooning 
maiden,  on  whom  the  dawning  hght  of  day  fell  faintly  through 
a  broad  window  ojieniug. 

_  As  Antinous  knelt  down  beside  her,  the  dog,  reduced  to 
silence  by  the  sound  of  his  familiar  voice,  stood  with  sunken 
head  not  far  off.  The  youth  gazed  anxiously  into  the  pale  face 
of  the  swooning  girl,  raised  her  lifeless  arms,  and  searched  her 
garments  for  marks  of  blood,  but  in  vain.  After  he  was  con- 
vinced that  she  still  breathed,  he  called  to  Mastor: 

"  Argus  seems  to  have  only  thrown  her  down.  I  discover 
no  mark  of  a  wound.  But  she  is  unconscious.  Go  quickly 
into  my  room  and  bring  the  blue  vial  from  my  case  of  salves, 
with  a  cujD  of  water." 

Meanwhile  Antinous  ventured  to  raise  her  head,  with  its  full 
rich  hair,  and  contemplate  the  nobly  cut  features,  now  white 
as  marble.  He  was  touched  by  the  painful  twitching  about 
her  mouth,  and  was  most  glad  to  render  these  unsought  offices 
of  kindness — he,  the  favorite  of  the  emperor,  to  whom  Love 
itself  pressed  forward  whenever  he  showed  himself. 

"Wake  up,  oh,  wake  up!"  he  cried  to  Selene,  and  as  she 
did  not  move,  he  cried  the  more  earnestly:  "Oh,  wake  up!" 
But  she  heard  nothing,  and  still  lay  motionless,  while  he, 
blushi]]g,  spread  the  peplum  over  her  bare  shoulders,  wliich 
the  dog  had  torn  off.  Now  Mastor  came  with  the  water  and 
the  vial,  placing  both  in  the  hand  of  the  Bithynian.  While 
Antinous  laid  the  head  of  the  unconscious  girl  upon  his  knees, 
the  slave  left,  saying: 

"The  emperor  calls,"  and  Antmous  bathed  her  forehead 
with  the  reviving  fluid,  and  held  the  vial  to  her  nostrils,  still 
begging  her  to  wake. 

At  last  she  opened  her  colorless  lips,  reveahng  her  white 
teeth,  and  slowly  lifted  her  eyelids.  Antinous  placed  the  cup 
and  vial  upon  the  ground  that  his  hands  might  be  free  to  as- 
sist her  in  rising;  but  scarcely  had  he  turn*^!  his  face  aside  to 


THE   EMPEEOR.  107 

do  this,  when  she  fluug  her  arms  passionately  about  liis  neck, 
screaming: 

"  Help,  Pollux,  help!     The  monster  will  devour  me!" 

Frightened,  Antinous  seized  her  arm  to  loosen  the  grasp  on 
his  throat,  but  already  she  had  sunk  back.  A  violent  shiver 
ran  through  her  frame  in  the  next  moment. 

Then  she  raised  her  hands,  pressed  them  upon  her  eyebrows, 
and  looked  in  perplexity  upon  his  face. 

"  What  is  this?     Who  are  you?''  she  asked. 

He  rose  quickly,  and  while  assisting  her  attempt  to  rise,  ex- 
claimed: 

"  The  gods  be  praised  that  you  are  alive!  Our  great  Molos- 
sian  threw  you  to  the  ground,  and  he  has  such  frightful 
teeth." 

Selene  now  stood  erect,  but  the  last  words  of  the  youth  made 
her  shiver  once  more. 

"  Are  you  in  pain?"  he  asked,  anxiously. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  stolidly. 

"  Has  he  bitten  you?" 

"  I  think  not.  Pick  up  the  clasp  yonder,  it  fell  from  my 
peplum. " 

The  Bithynian  obeyed;  and  while  the  girl  fastened  the  gar- 
ment upon  her  shoulders,  she  asked  again: 

"  Who  are  you?    How  comes  this  Molossian  in  om*  palace?" 

"  He  belongs — he  belongs — tons—  We  arrived  last  even- 
ing quite  late,  and  Pontius — " 

"  Then  3'ou  came  with  the  Eoman  architect?" 

"  Yes;  but  who  are  you?" 

"  I  am  Selene,  daughter  of  the  palace  overseer,  Keraunus." 

"  And  who  is  Pollux,  on  whom  you  called  for  help  as  you 
woke  to  consciousness?" 

"  What  is  that  to  you?" 

Antinous  blushed  and  replied,  in  an  embarrassed  manner: 

"  I  was  frightened  to  hear  you  call  his  name  so  passionately 
after  I  had  restored  you  with  water  and  this  essence." 

"  Since  I  am  restored  I  can  go.  Whoever  brings  savage 
dogs  into  a  strange  house  ought  to  guard  them  better.  Bind 
the  creature  fast,  for  the  cliildren — my  little  brothers  and  sis- 
ters— come  this  way  whenever  they  go  out.  I  thank  you  for 
your  help.     And  now,  my  pitcher. " 

With  these  words  she  looked  around  for  the  pretty  vessel 
which  had  been  a  special  favorite  of  her  mother. 

When  she  saw  it  lying  in  fragments,  she  cried  out  with  in- 
dignant sobs: 

"  It  is  good  for  nothing.'' 


108  THE  EMPEROR. 

"With  these  words  she  turned  her  back  upon  Antinous  and 
went  linniL'W'iird,  stepping  very  carefully  upon  the  lel't  foot. 
Tlu!  youth  longed  to  follow  her  and  say  how  deeply  he  re- 

f  retted  the  accident,  and  that  the  dog  did  not  belong  to  him; 
ut  he  dared  not  venture. 

He  stood  on  the  same  spot  until  long  after  she  had  vanished 
from  sight. 

Then  he  returned  to  his  room,  but  sat  down  on  the  bed, 
staring  dreamily  at  the  floor  until  the  voice  of  the  emperor 
startled  him. 

Selene  had  scarcely  bestowed  a  glance  upon  Antinous.  She 
was  in  pain,  not  alone  in  the  ankle,  but  from  a  wound  in  the 
back  of  her  head,  where  the  thick  hair  had  absorbed  the  blood. 
She  felt  exhausted,  and  the  loss  of  her  pitcher,  which  must 
now  be  replaced,  caused  her  more  vexation  than  the  beauty  of 
Antinous  could  have  furnished  pleasure. 

Slowly  and  wearily  she  entered  the  common  room  where  her 
father  was  waiting  for  the  water.  He  was  accustomed  to  have 
it  at  a  certain  time.  As  Selene  was  gone  so  much  longer  than 
usual  this  morning,  he  found  nothing  better  to  do  than  to  oc- 
cupy the  time  with  grumbling  and  fault  finding. 

As  she  at  last  stejoped  over  the  threshold  he  saw  that  she 
had  no  pitcher,  and  asked,  peevishly: 

"  Am  I  to  have  no  water  to-day?" 

Selene  shook  her  head,  dropped  into  a  chair,  and  began  to 
weep. 

"  What  is  the  matter?"  asked  Keraunus. 

"  The  ijitcher  is  broken,"  she  answered,  sadly. 

"  You  should  be  more  careful  of  those  costly  things,"  said 
Keraunus,  crossly,  "  You  are  always  complaining  when  the 
money  fails,  and  jet  you  destroy  half  the  household  goods." 

"  I  was  thrown  to  the  ground, "  said  Selene,  wiping  her  eyes. 

"  Thrown?    By  whom?"  asked  the  overseer,  slowly  rising. 

"  By  the  savage  dog  of  the  Roman  architect  who  came  last 
evening,  for  whom  we  furnished  bread  and  salt  after  mid- 
night.    He  slept  on  the  Lochias." 

"  And  he  sets  liis  dog  on  my  child!"  cried  Keramms  with 
rolling  eyes. 

"  The  Molossian  was  alone  in  the  passage  as  I  went  out." 

"  Has  he  bitten  you?" 

"  No;  but  he  threw  me  down,  and  stood  over  me,  gnashing 
his  teeth.     Oh,  it  was  horrible  I" 

"Cursed  vagabond!"  exciaini(Ml  the  overseer,  angrily,  "I 
will  teach  him  how  to  conduct  himseli  in  a  strange  house." 

''  Let  it  pass,"  begged  Selene,  as  she  saw  her  father  seize  his 


THE   EMPEROR.  109 

crocus-colored  pallium.  "  One  can  not  help  what  is  past;  and 
if  you  should  have  an  angry  quarrel,  it  would  hurt  you.'^ 

"  Vagrants,  impudent  folk  that  spread  themselves,  with 
their  dangerous  beasts,  through  my  palace, "  grumbled  Kerau- 
nus  to  himself,  without  noticing  his  daughter;  and  as  he  ar- 
ranged the  folds  of  his  pallium  growled  out  rather  than  called: 
"  Arsiuoe!  will  the  girl  never  come?" 

As  she  approached,  he  ordered  her  to  heat  the  iron  and  curl 
his  hair. 

'^  It  is  already  in  the  fire,'^  answered  she.  "  Come  with  me 
to  the  kitchen." 

Keraunus  followed.  The  younger  children  were  standing 
about,  waiting  for  the  porridge  Selene  was  iu  the  habit  of  giv- 
ing them  at  this  time.  Keraunus  answered  their  morning 
salute  with  only  such  a  nod  as  Arsinoe's  curling-iron  permitted. 

The  blind  Helios  alone  received  a  kiss  on  the  cheek.  He 
loved  this  always  cheerful  though  so  sorely  afflicted  child  with 
peculiar  tenderness;  and  really  laughed  aloud  when  the  boy, 
pressing  against  his  sister  while  she  handled  the  hot  iron, 
asked : 

"  Do  you  know,  father,  why  I  am  most  sorry  that  I  can  not 
see?' 

"  Why?"  returned  the  overseer. 

"  Because  ]  should  so  much  like  to  see  you  wiih  the  pretty 
curls  Arsinoe  makes. " 

But  the  cheerfulness  of  the  overseer  disappeared,  when 
Arsinoe  interrupted  her  work  to  ask  half  earnestly  and  half 
playfully: 

"  Have  you  thought  any  more  about  the  emperor's  reception, 
father?  I  make  you  look  so  nicely  every  day,  that  for  this- 
once  you  ought  to  do  it  for  me. " 

"  We  shall  see,"  answered  Keraunus,  mildly. 

"  Do  you  know,"  Arsinoe  went  on  after  a  little  pause,  while 
she  held  the  last  curl  in  the  heated  tongs:  "  I  thought  it  all 
over  last  night.  If  we  can  not  afford  to  use  the  money  for  my 
costume,  we  can  very  well — " 

"  What  do  you  mean?" 

"  Even  Selene  can  have  no  objection.'" 

"  Against  what?" 

'*  You  will  be  angry  again." 

"Goon." 

*'  You  pay  taxes  with  the  other  citizens." 

''What  of  that?" 

"  That  it  would  be  quite  right  for  us  to  receive  something 
from  the  city. " 


110  rHE  EMPEROR. 

'*  For  what  purpose?'* 

"  To  buy  my  costume  for  the  festival,  which  is  not  private, 
but  given  by  all  the  citizens  to  the  emperor.  "We  would  not 
accept  alms,  but  it  would  be  foolish  to  refuse  what  the  rich 
city  offers — as  a  gift. " 

"  Be  silent,''  cried  Kcraunus,  excited,  and  vainly  endeavor- 
ing to  recall  the  sentiments  with  which  he  had  rebuked  her  the 
day  before.  "  Be  silent,  and  say  nothing  more  about  the  mat- 
ter until  I  give  you  jiermission. " 

Arsinoe  threw  down  her  curling-tongs  so  hastily  that  they 
rang  ujion  the  stone  hearth;  but  her  father  returned  to  the 
common  room,  where  he  found  8elene  stretched  upon  a 
couch,  and  the  old  slave  woman  binding  one  wet  cloth  on  her 
head  and  another  on  the  left  foot. 

"  Were  you  hurt?"  cried  Keraimus,  his  eyes  rolling  slowly 
from  right  to  left,  and  from  left  to  right. 

"  Look  at  that  swelling!"  screeched  the  slave  in  broken 
Greek,  while  she  raised  the  fair  foot  of  .Selene  upon  her  black 
hand.  "  Thousands  of  rich  ladies  have  not  a  hand  so  small  as 
this  foot.  Poor,  poor  little  foot!"  And  she  pressed  it  to  her 
lips.     Selene  pushed  her  away,  and  turning  to  her  father,  said: 

"  The  wound  on  my  head  is  slight,  but  the  flesh  over  the 
ankle  is  a  good  deal  swollen.  It  hurts  me  to  step.  When  the 
dog  threw  me  down  I  must  have  struck  against  the  stone  step. " 

'^'  It  is  monstrous!"  exclaimed  Keraunus,  the  blood  rising 
to  his  face.  "  But  wait;  I  will  show  him  what  I  think  of  such 
conduct." 

"  No,  no,"  begged  Selene.  "  Only  ask  him  politely  to  shut 
up  or  chain  the  dog,  that  he  may  not  hurt  the  children. " 
Her  tone  was  anxious,  for  the  fear  that  her  father  would  lose 
his  place  was  more  vivid  than  usual;  she  could  not  tell  why. 

Would  you  have  me  say  only  pleasant  words  about  this 
affair?"  asked  Keraunus,  turning  away,  as  if  something  very 
imreasonable  were  asked  of  him. 

"No,  no,  only  tell  liim  what  you  think,"  screeched  the 
slave. 

"  Had  this  happened  to  your  father,  the  strange  stone-cutter 
would  have  received  a  blow  across  the  back. " 

*'  His  son  Keraunus  will  bestow  nothing  less,"  asserted  the 
overseer,  leaving  the  room  without  any  further  notice  of  Selene. 

In  the  vestibule  he  found  the  old  slave,  and  commanded  him 
to  take  a  stick,  and  go  on  to  announce  his  coming  to  the  guest 
of  Pontius. 

This  would  be  more  imposing,  and  would  also  bring  the 
slave  first  into  contact  with  the  dog,  whom  he  regarded  as  an 


THE   EMPEEOR.  Ill 

abominable  beast.  As  he  approached  his  destination,  he  found 
himself  in  proper  mood  to  speak  the  truth  to  the  stranger  who 
had  allowed  one  of  his  family  to  be  thrown  down  by  a  fierce 


CHAPTEE  XIV. 

Hadrian"  had  slept  well;  only  a  few  hours  certainly,  but 
enough  to  refresh  his  sjDirit.  He  stood  at  the  window  of  his 
sitting-room,  which  occupied  more  than  half  the  western  wall, 
and  opened  toward  the  sea. 

Two  high  jiillars,  with  shafts  of  reddish-brown  jiorphyry, 
sprinkled  with  white,  and  gilded  Corinthian  capitals,  stood  on 
either  side  of  the  recess.  The  emperor  leaned  against  one  of 
these  porphyry  shafts,  stroking  the  Molossian,  whose  ready 
vigilance  had  pleased  him.  What  cared  he  for  the  poor  girl's 
fright?  Beside  the  opposite  pillar  stood  Antinous,  with  one 
foot  on  the  bow-window  sill,  lus  chin  resting  on  his  hand  and 
one  elbow  supported  by  his  knee. 

"  This  Pontius  is  really  an  accomplished  man,"  said 
Hadrian,  touching  with  one  hand  a  tapestry  on  the  wall; 
"  the  pattern  of  this  fabric  was  from  a  fruit  jjicture  I  painted 
and  sent  here  to  be  copied  m  mosaic.  Yesterday  this  room 
was  not  destined  for  my  use,  so  that  the  tapestry  must  have 
been  hung  after  our  arrival.  And  how  many  other  good  things 
he  managed  to  collect!  It  is  very  comfortable,  and  besides, 
there  are  many  articles  to  admire. " 

"  Have  you  tried  the  luxurious  couch  yonder?"  asked  An- 
tinous. "  And  the  bronze  figures  in  the  corners  are  not  at  all 
bad.'' 

"  It  is  excellent  work,"  replied  the  emperor,  "  but  I  would 
rather  have  the  windows  free.  Which  is  bluer  here,  the  sea 
or  the  sky?  What  a  real  spring-breath  is  wafted  across,  even 
in  December!  One  hardly  knows  which  to  admire  most,  the 
countless  vessels  in  the  harbor,  the  rich  and  charming  country 
seats,  or  the  fine  buildings  everywhere  visible  in  their  stately 
grandeur,  and  the  harmonious  beauty  of  their  forms. " 

"  What  is  that  long  embankment,  connecting  the  island  with 
the  mainland?  Only  look,  there  comes  a  great  trireme  under 
an  immense  arch  which  seems  to  rest  upon  it.  And  there  is 
another!" 

"  That  is  the  dike,  which  the  Alexandrians  call  with  pride 
their  He23tastadion,  because  it  is  seven  stadia  in  length.  Along 
the  upper  part  is  a  stone  channel— concealed  as  an  elder-tret 


112  THE   EMPEROR. 

does  its  pith — through  which  the  Island  of  Pharos  is  supplied 
with  water. " 

"  It  is  a  pity  we  can  not  see  from  here  the  buildings,  and 
the  people,  and  the  carriages,  which  swarm  like  busy  ants,  be- 
hind our  backs,"  said  Antiuous.  "  The  little  island  yonder, 
and  the  narrow  point  of  land  with  its  high  buildings,  liide  it 
all. " 

"  But  these  serve  to  give  life  to  the  picture,"  answered  the 
emperor.  "  That  little  castle  on  the  island  was  often  occupied 
by  Cleopatra,  and  the  high  tower  on  the  northern  point,  where 
now  the  blue  waves  sparkle,  and  the  gulls  and  pigeons  are  de- 
scribing then-  merry  circles,  held  Antony  after  the  battle  of 
Actium. " 

"  In  order  to  forget  his  disgrace,*'  cried  Antinous. 

"  He  called  it  his  Timonium,  because  he  wished,  hke  the 
wise  man-hater  of  Athens,  to  live  undisturbed  by  his  fellow- 
men.     What  if  I  should  call  the  Lochias  my  Timonium?" 

"  One  needs  not  to  hide  greatness  and  distinction." 

"  Who  told  you  that  Antony  came  here  to  hide  his  disgrace? 
He  had  often  enough  proved  himself  a  brave  soldier  at  the 
head  of  his  troops,  and  when  he  turned  his  ship  before  Actium, 
it  was  not  through  fear  of  swords  and  lances,  but  because  fate 
compelled  him  to  submit  to  the  wishes  of  his  wife,  on  whose 
destiny  his  own  hung. " 

"  Then  do  you  excuse  his  conduct?" 

"  I  only  seek  to  understand  it,  and  am  unwilling  to  beheve 
that  shame  prompted  any  of  Antony's  movements.  Do  you 
think  I  could  blush?  One  is  not  subject  to  shame  after  he 
has  learned  to  despise  the  world." 

"  But  why  did  Marc  Antony  shut  himself  into  this  sea-girt 
prison?" 

"  Because,  for  any  man,  who  has  been  surrounded  by 
women,  and  jesters,  and  flatterers,  there  comes  a  moment 
■when  he  is  overtaken  by  disgust.  At  such  times,  there  is  only 
one  among  all  the  crowd  whose  company  he  can  endure.  It 
•was  so  with  Antony  after  the  battle  of  Actium,  and  he  left 
men  to  enjoy  good  society.  " 

"  Is  that  what  sometimes  drives  you  into  sohtude?" 

"  Perhaps  so;  but  you  can  always  go  with  me." 

*'  Then  you  hold  me  far  better  than  the  others,"  cried  An- 
tinous, delighted. 

"  In  any  case,  far  handsomer,"  returned  the  emperor,  in  a 
friendly  tone. 

"  Go  on  with  your  questions." 
[   Antinous  needed  a  few  moments  before  accepting  this  invita- 


THE    EiAIPEROR.  113 

tion.  At  last,  recovering  himself,  he  asked  Hadrian  to  exi^lain 
why  most  of  the  ships  lying  at  anchor  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Heptastadion  came  in  through  the  Eunostus.  This  entrance 
was  less  dangerous  than  that  which  led  to  the  eastern  landing, 
between  the  Isle  of  Pharos  and  the  Lochias. 

Hadrian  answered  all  the  questions  of  Antinous  respecting 
the  different  buildings  of  the  city.  After  pointing  out  the 
Soma,  where  rested  the  body  of  Alexander  the  Great,  he  grew 
thoughtful,  and  said  to  himself: 

"  The  Great!  One  might  envy  the  Macedonian  youth,  not 
on  account  of  this  honorable  title,  which  many  of  less  worth 
have  borne,  but  because  he  really  deserved  it." 

Antinous  was  astonished  that  Hadrian  could  tell  him  so 
much  about  all  these  points,  and  exclaimed: 

"  You  know  everything  about  this  city,  and  yet  you  have 
never  before  seen  it.'* 

"  That  is  one  of  the  greatest  pleasures  of  travel,"  answered 
Hadrian,  "  that  we  can  identify  so  many  places  and  objects 
with  which  we  have  become  familiar  through  books  and  de- 
scriptions. We  compare  the  reality  with  an  idea  previously 
formed.  To  be  surprised  with  new  and  unexpected  objects  is, 
to  me*,  far  less  satisfactory  than  to  learn  more  about  those 
whose  existence  has  been  long  familiar.  Do  you  understand 
what  1  mean?" 

"  I  think  so.  One  hears  about  a  thing,  and  when  he  comes 
to  look  at  it,  inquires  if  it  be  what  he  had  imagined.  I  always 
think  jjeopleand  places  I  have  heard  praised  will  be  better  than 
I  find  them." 

"  That  experience,  which  now  contributes  to  the  prejudice 
of  existing  things,  will  diminish  with  the  cultivation  of  your 
iAiaginative  powers,"  rejolied  Hadrian.  "  I — I  " — looking  far 
into  the  distance,  while  he  stroked  his  beard,  "  find,  the  older 
I  grow,  that  it  becomes  possible  so  to  represent  to  myself  men 
and  things  that,  when  I  see  them  for  the  first  time,  they  seem 
familiar  objects.  Here  I  look  on  nothing  new.  I  recognize 
old  acquaintances.  But  in  this  case  it  is  natural;  for  I  knew 
my  Strabo,  and  have  heard,  or  read  a  hundred  descriptions  of 
this  city.  Still  many  things  which  I  never  heard  do  not  seem 
strange." 

"  I  have  experienced  something  of  the  same  sort,"  said  An- 
tinous. "  Have  our  souls  really  lived  in  other  bodies,  and  do 
they  retain  some  memory  of  a  former  life?  Favorinus  once 
told  me  that  a  great  philosopher — I  think  it  was  Plato — has 
asserted  that  our  souls  float  about  in  the  sky  before  we  ar« 


114  THE  EMPEROR. 

born,  looking  at  the  earth  on  which  they  are  appointed  to  live. 
Besides  that  he  said — " 

"  Favorinus!"  cried  Hadrian,  turning  away,  "this  fine 
talker  possesses  the  skill  to  give  a  great  thought  an  attractive 
form,  but  he  does  not  understand  the  secrets  of  his  own  soul 
he  talks  too  much,  and  never  withdraws  from  the  confusion  of 
hfe. " 

"  You  recognize  the  fact,  but  disapprove  of  his  explana- 
tion. " 

"  Yes;  for  I  meet  men  and  things  as  old  acquaintances,  which 
had  their  origin,  or  first  saw  this  world,  long  after  my  birth. 
Perhaps  my  experience  is  not  like  others,  but  I  am  sure  that 
there  lives  and  works  within  me  a  secret  something  that  is  in- 
dependent of  me,  and  which  goes  and  comes  according  to  its 
own  choice.  Call  this  my  familiar  spirit,  or  my  genius;  the 
name  is  of  no  consequence.  This  something  does  not  always 
come  at  my  call,  and  it  frequently  works  within  me  when  I 
least  expect  it.  But  whenever  it  is  present,  I  am  conscious  of 
an  experience  and  a  power  that  are  not  my  own.  What  that 
knows  I  know  also.  Alexandria  is  not  strange  to  me,  because 
the  wings  of  my  genius  have  visited  it.  Much  has  it  taught 
me,  and  worked  through  me.  Many  times  I  have  asked  be- 
fore the  work  of  my  own  hands:  '  Is  it  possible  that  you, 
Hadrian,  the  son  of  your  mother,  can  have  accomplished  this?' 
What  shall  I  call  the  foreign  vigor  which  assisted  me  in  the 
task?  I  recognize  the  same  inspiration  in  other  people,  and 
notice  that  such  always  outrank  their  fellows.  This  is  espe- 
cially true  of  artists.  Or  do  common  people  become  artists 
where  genius  chooses  them  for  its  own  habitation?  Uo  you 
understand  me?" 

"  Only  in  part,"  answered  Antinous,  whose  great  eyes,  that 
were  so  full  of  life  and  sparkle  while  looking  out  on  the  land- 
scape, were  now  turned— heavy  and  weary — to  the  ground. 

"  Do  not  be  angry,  sire.  Such  things  I  can  never  under- 
stand fully,  for  no  one  living  has  less  of  what  you  call  genius 
than  I.  I  have  no  thoughts  of  my  own,  and  it  is  hard  to  fol- 
low those  of  others.  What  have  I  ever  done  that  has  been 
worthy  of  notice?  If  I  make  an  attempt,  no  genius  comes  to 
the  assistance  of  my  soul.  She  is  helpless,  and  falls  into  dream- 
ing. And  if  I  do  finish  anything,  I  must  acknowledge  that  it 
might  have  been  done  very  much  better." 

"Self-knowledge,"  said  Hadrian,  "is  the  highest  ultain- 
ment  of  wisdom.  Each  one  thinks  he  has  gained  it,  after  em- 
bellishing the  representation  of   some  friend.     What  others 


THE  EMPEROE.  115 

attain  through  their  -works,  you  accomplish  by  your  simple 
existence.     Be  quiet,  Argus!" 

During  these  last  words,  the  Molossian  had  gone  growling 
toward  the  door,  and,  in  sj)ite  of  his  master's  command,  barked 
loudl}',  as  a  vigorous  knock  was  heard  upon  the  outside. 
Hadrian  asked  in  surprise:  "  Where  is  Master?" 

Antinous  opened  a  door  into  the  next  room,  calling  his 
name,  but  received  no  answer. 

"  What  has  become  of  the  fellow?"  asked  the  emperor. 
"  He  is  usually  close  at  hand,  and  fresh  as  a  lark,  but  to-day 
he  seems  to  be  dreaming;  and  while  assisting  at  my  toilet  let 
first  a  shoe,  and  then  a  shoulder-clasp  fall  out  of  his  hand. " 

"  Yesterday  I  read  him  a  letter  that  had  just  come  from 
Rome.     His  young  wife  has  run  away  with  a  ship-captain. " 

"  We  will  congratulate  him  on  his  freedom." 

'*  He  seemed  very  fond  of  her. " 

"  A  nice  fellow  like  him,  and  my  body-slave,  will  easily  find 
a  comj^ensation. " 

"  But  not  just  yet.     At  first  he  must  mourn  his  loss. " 

"  So  it  seems.  But  there  is  the  knocking  again.  AVe  must 
see,  who  dares —  But  of  course  any  one  has  the  right  to  knock 
here,  since  I  am  on  the  Lochias,  not  the  emperor,  but  an 
architect  from  Rome.  Lie  down,  Argus;  arc  you  possessed, 
old  fellow?  The  dog  seems  more  careful  of  my  dignity  than  I 
am  myself — and  the  jilay  of  being  architect  does  not  seem  to 
please  him. " 

Antinous  had  already  his  hand  on  the  door,  when  it  opened 
from  the  outside,  and  the  slave  of  Keraunus  stepped  over  the 
threshold.     The  old  negro  j^resented  a  pitiable  aspect. 

The  impo-^ing  figure  of  the  emperor,  and  the  handsome  at- 
tire of  his  favorite,  threw  him  into  embarrassment;  but  the 
threatening  growl  of  the  Molossian  caused  him  such  anxiety 
that  his  meager  legs  knocked  together  under  his  threadbare 
coat. 

Hadrian  looked  at  this  jMcture  of  woe  in  surj^rise,  and  asked : 

"  What  do  you  want,  fellow?" 

The  slave  attcmj^ted  to  take  another  step  forward,  but  ou 
Hadrian's  authoritative  command  to  remain  where  he  was, 
stopped,  casthig  his  eyes  down  upon  his  flat  feet,  and  scratched 
his  shorn  head. 

"  Well?"  ask.d  Hadrian  again,  in  a  tone  not  less  encourag- 
ing, and  loosened  liis  own  grip  of  the  dog's  collar  in  a  suspi- 
cious manner. 

The  bowing  k.iees  of  the  slave  began  to  tremble  again,  and 
stretching  out  his  broad  palms  toward  the  gray-bearded  man. 


116  THE    EMPEROR. 

who  appeared  to  him  no  less  terrible  than  the  clog,  began,  in 
cruelly  mutilated  Greek,  the  address  his  master  had  repeated 
to  liim  oAcr  and  over,  which  was  to  the  efTect  that  he  appeared 
before  the  architect  Claudius  Venator,  of  Eome,  to  announce 
his  master,  Keraunus,  a  member  of  the  city  comicil,  a  Mace- 
donian and  Roman  citizen,  son  of  Ptolema^us,  overseer  of  the 
former  kingly,  now  imperial,  j^alace  on  the  Locliias. 

Hadrian  pitilessly  suffered  the  poor  fellow,  from  whose  fore- 
head the  hot  perspiration  started,  to  go  on  to  the  end,  while 
he  only  rubbed  his  hands  together  in  delighted  amusement, 
and,  to  prolong  the  sport,  carefully  refrained  from  giving  the 
slightest  assistance  when  his  stammering  tongue  met  an  ap- 
parently insurmountable  liinderance. 

When  the  negro  at  last  brought  his  bombastic  sentence  to 
an  end,  Hadrian  said,  kindly: 

"  Say  to  your  master  he  can  come  in.  Tliis  is  capital  sport," 
added  Hadrian  to  Antinous,  as  the  slave  went  out.  "  If  tliis 
is  the  Eagle,  what  must  be  the  Juj^iter?" 

Keraunus  did  not  keej)  him  long  Avaiting.  While  walking 
up  and  down  the  passage  before  the  door,  his  evil  temper  had 
risen  steadily,  for  he  was  determined  to  regard  as  an  insult  the 
fact  that  lie,  whose  dignity  and  birth  the  slave  must  have 
already  made  known  to  the  architect,  should  be  allowed  to  re- 
main so  long  alone.  He  had  expected  the  Roman  woidd  come 
out  himself  to  conduct  him  in,  and  could  scarcely  believe  the 
short  message  of  the  slave. 

"  Did  he  simply  say  '  I  could  enter;'  not  '  at  his  pleasure;' 
or  '  if  he  will  have  the  kindness  to  do  so  7"  asked  the  over- 
seer. 

"  He  said:  '  He  can  come  in/  ''  answered  the  slave. 

Keraunus  uttered  a  curt  *'  So!"  straightened  the  golden 
fillet  over  liis  locks,  threw  back  his  head,  crossed  his  arms 
above  his  broad  breast,  and  ordered  the  negro  to, 

'"  Open  the  door." 

With  immense  pomposity  he  crossed  the  threshold,  and  not 
to  be  deficient  in  jioliteness,  bowed,  looking  toward  the  sky, 
and  would  at  once  have  opened  upon  his  com])laint  in  sharp 
language  had  not  a  glance  at  the  emi^eror  and  an  eti'eet  from 
the  sudden  adornment  of  the  room,  as  well  as  from  the  un- 
friendly growl  of  the  dog,  persuaded  him  to  strike  a  milder 
key.  The  slave,  who  followed  him,  took  a  secure  position  be- 
tween the  wall  and  a  couch,  but  Keraunus  advanced  further. 
The  emperor  had  seated  himself  on  tlie  window-sill,  with  one 
foot  laid  lightly  upon  the  neck  of  the  Molossian,  and  examined 
Keraunus  as  he  would  a  notable  rarity.     When  the  overseer 


THE   EMPEROE.  117 

met  his  glance  he  perceived  that  he  had  to  do  with  a  greater 
man  than  he  had  expected.  There  was  something  very  im- 
pressive in  the  appearance  of  the  emi)eror;  but  it  only  served 
to  prick  on  his  pride,  and  though  not  in  so  sharp  a  way  as  he 
had  intended,  he  asked,  with  great  show  of  dignity: 

"  Do  I  stand  before  the  new  guest  of  the  Lochias,  the  archi- 
tect Claudius  Venator,  from  Rome?" 

"  You  stand,"  answered  Hadrian,  with  a  mischievous  glance 
toward  Antinous. 

"  You  have  met  a  friendly  reception  in  this  palace.  As  did 
my  ancestors,  who  have  rided  here  for  a  century,  so  do  I 
understand  the  exercise  of  hospitality." 

"  I  am  overwhelmed  by  the  venerable  dignity  of  your  race, 
and  bow  myself  before  your  filial  jiiety,"  answered  Hadrian, 
using  the  very  tone  of  the  overseer. 

''  I  did  not  come  here  to  tell  stories,"  said  Keraunns,  whose 
gall  was  excited  by  a  fancied  sarcastic  smile  about  the  mouth 
of  the  stranger — "  not  to  tell  stories,  but  to  complain  that  you, 
in  return  for  my  hospitality,  have  taken  so  little  pains  to  guard 
your  host  from  injury." 

"  What  does  this  mean?"  asked  Hadrian,  rising  from  his 
seat,  and  beckoning  Antinous  to  hold  the  dog — for  Argus 
manifested  a  special  hostility  toward  the  overseer.  He  had  an 
instinctive  percej^tion  that  the  man  had  come  with  no  friendly 
intentions  toward  his  master. 

"  Does  this  dangerous  beast,  with  the  gnashing  teeth,  belong 
to  you?" 

"Yes." 

"  He  threw  my  daughter  to  the  ground  this  morning,  and  a 
costly  pitcher  in  her  hand  was  broken  to  pieces." 

"  I  heard  of  this  accident,  and  would  have  given  much  to 
jirevent  it.     You  shall  be  fully  comjiensated  for  the  jjitcber." 

"  I  beg  you  not  to  add  insult  to  the  injury  we  have  already 
suffered.  A  father  whose  daughter  has  been  thrown  down  and 
wounded — " 

"  Then  did  Argus  bite  her?"  broke  in  Antinous,  frightened. 

"  No,"  answered  Keraunns,  "  but  both  head  and  foot  were 
injured  by  the  fall,  and  she  suffers  much  pain." 

"  That  is  sad;  and  since  I  have  had  some  experience  in  the 
art  of  healing,  will  gladly  help  her,"  rejalied  Hadrian. 

"  I  pay  the  salary  of  a  professional  practitioner  for  services 

rendered  to  my  family,"  answered  Keraunus,  in  a  bluff  tone, 

"  and  I  came  here  to  request,  or  more  frankly,  to  demand — " 

"  What?"  asked  Hadrian. 

"  First,  that  I  receive  an  apology." 


118  THE   EMPEROR. 

''The  arcliitect,  Claudius  Venator,  is  always  ready  to  do 
that,  if  any  person  has  suffered  through  him  or  through  his 
fault.  I  repeat  that  I  sincerely  regret  what  has  liappened, 
and  beg  you  to  say  to  the  young  woman  who  has  met  with  the 
accident,  that  her  pain  is  also  mine.  What  more  do  you 
wish?'' 

The  features  of  Keraunus  had  become  quite  softened  during 
these  words,  and  he  replied,  less  excited  than  before: 

"  I  must  beg  you  to  chain  your  dog,  or  lock  him  up,  or  in 
some  other  way  insure  our  safety. " 

'*  That  is  too  much,"  cried  the  emperor. 

"  It  is  only  a  reasonable  demand,  upon  which  I  shall  insist,'"' 
answered  Keraunus,  with  decision.  "  Neither  I  nor  my  chil- 
dren can  be  sure  of  our  lives  so  long  as  this  savage  beast  wan- 
ders about. " 

Hadrian  had  erected  monuments  to  favorite  deceased  dogs 
and  horses,  and  the  faithful  Argus  was  dear  to  him,  as  only 
four-footed  companions  can  be  to  childless  men;  therefore  the 
demand  seemed  bold  and  unreasonable,  and  he  answered,  in- 
voluntarily: 

"  Foolishness!  The  dog  shall  be  watched;  and  now  let  me 
hear  notliing  more." 

"  You  will  either  put  him  in  chains,"  returned  Keraimus, 
with  rolling  e3^es,  "  or  some  way  will  be  found  to  make  him 
forever  harmless." 

"  The  cowardly  murderer  would  find  himself  in  trouble," 
cried  Hadrian.     "  What  do  you  think,  Argus?" 

The  dog  raised  himself  with  these  words,  and  would  have 
sprung  at  the  throat  of  Keraunus,  had  not  both  his  master  and 
Antinous  held  him  back. 

Keraunus  knew  he  was  threatened,  but  at  that  moment  he 
would  have  allowed  himself  to  be  torn  in  pieces  witliout  flinch- 
ing, so  completely  was  he  mastered  by  rage  and  wounded  pride. 

"  Will  he  also  set  his  dog  upon  me  in  this  house?"  he  cried, 
assumhig  a  challenging  attitude,  with  the  left  fist  against  his 
side.  "  Everything  has  its  limits,  and  so  has  my  patience  with 
the  guest,  who  in  spite  of  his  ripe  years,  forgets  every  con- 
sideration of  jn-opriety.  I  shall  report  to  the  Prefect  Titianus 
how  you  conduct  yourself;  and  when  the  emperor  arrives,  he 
shall  learn — " 

"  AVhat?"  asked  Hadrian,  laughing. 

"  What  hberties  you  take  with  me.^' 

"Till  then  the  dog  stays  where  he  is,  and,  I  assure  yo1i, 
ui?der  good  control.  But  man,  let  me  tell  you  that  Hadrian  is 
as  fond  of  dogs  as  1  am,  and  he  is  still  more  fond  of  me." 


THE  EMPEROR.  119 

"  We  shall  see/'  grumbled  Keraunus.     "  I  or  the  dog." 

"  I  think  we  shall  say  the  dog. " 

"  And  with  that  Eome  would  undertake  a  new  stretch  of 
power/'  cried  Keraunus,  his  eyes  rolling  in  their  sockets. 
"  You  have  taken  Egyjjt  from  the  Ptolemies. " 

"  With  good  reason;  but  that  is  an  old  story." 

"  Eight  does  not  die  out  like  a  bad  debt." 

"  But  it  loses  its  jDower  with  the  death  of  the  claimant. 
How  long  since  the  Lagides  became  extinct?" 

"  You  assert  that  only  because  it  is  for  your  hiterest  to  be- 
lieve it.  In  the  man  now  standing  before  you  flows  the  blood 
of  the  Macedonian  princes  of  this  land.  My  oldest  son  bears 
the  name  of  Helios  Ptoleniffius,  with  whom,  as  you  suppose, 
the  Lagides  became  extinct." 

"  The  dear,  little,  blind  Helios/'  broke  in  here  the  old  slave, 
who  was  accustomed  to  use  the  name  of  this  child  as  a  shield 
against  the  bad  humor  of  Keraunus. 

"  Then  the  latest  scion  of  the  Lagieds  is  blind?"  exclaimed 
the  emperor,  laughing.  "  Rome  can  bide  his  claim.  But  I  must 
inform  the  emperor  what  a  dangerous  pretender  this  house 
contains." 

"  Denounce  me,  report,  calmuniate  me,"  cried  the  overseer, 
scornfully;  "  but  I  will  not  be  trampled  on.  Patience!  Pa- 
tience!    You  will  come  to  know  me!" 

"  And  you,  the  Molossian,"  answered  Hadrian,  "  if  youdo 
not  instantly  take  yourself  out  of  this  place  with  your  pilfermg 
crow  yonder." 

Keraunus  nodded  to  the  slave,  and  turned  his  back  to  the 
enemy  without  a  word  of  leave-taking.  He  lingered  for  an 
instant  on  the  threshold,  and  cried  to  Hadrian : 

"  You  may  depend  on  this:  I  sball  make  known  in  the 
council,  and  to  the  emperor,  how  you  have  dared  to  treat  a 
Macedonian  citizen  in  this  place." 

Hadrian  released  the  dog,  who  plunged  fiercely  against  the 
door,  now  closed  between  him  and  the  object  of  his  rage. 
Hadrian  commanded  him  to  be  quiet,  and  said  to  Antiuous: 

"  A  monster  of  a  man!  Not  only  ridiculous,  but  repugnant 
to  the  last  degree.  How  the  wrath  worked  within,  yet  without 
coming  to  any  genuine  outburst.  I  am  always  on  my  guard 
against  such  fellows.  Look  out  for  Argus,  and  do  not  forget 
that  we  are  in  a  land,  which,  as  Homer  once  said,  is  full  of 
poison.  Maxtor  must  keep  his  eyes  open;  there  he  comes  at 
last." 


1^0  THE  EMPEROR. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

When  the  body-slave  of  Hadrian  sprung  to  the  rescue  of  the 
threatened  Selene,  he  had  already  passed  through  a  scene  that 
would  never  leave  his  memory.  He  had  received  an  inefface- 
able imjjression,  his  ear  had  caught  words  destined  to  echo  for- 
ever ill  his  soul,  and  which  so  migiitily  moved  his  whole  being, 
that  he  had  rendered  the  ordinary  services  at  his  master's 
morning  toilet  in  a  dreamy  and  abseiit-mindned  manner.  It 
was  his  custom  to  leave  the  sleeping-room  of  his  master  at  a 
very  early  hour,  to  make  all  ready  which  he  would  require  on 
rising.  There  was  the  polishing  of  the  gold-work  on  the  close- 
ly fitting  greaves,  and  the  straps  of  the  military  boots,  the 
clothes  to  be  aired  and  sj^rinkled  with  the  delicate  jDcrfumery 
of  Hadrian's  choice.  But  time  was  esj)ecially  needed  to  pre- 
pare  the  bath.  On  the  Lochias  there  was  as  yet  nothing  cor- 
responding to  the  complete  arrangements  for  bathing  in  the 
imperial  palace  at  Eome,  but  the  slave  knew  he  would  require 
an  abundant  sujDply  of  water. 

He  had  been  histructed  to  ai)ply  to  Pontius  whenever  any- 
thing was  needed.  And  he  found  him  without  much  search, 
busied  in  preparing  a  comfortable  sitting-room  for  the  em- 
peror, on  his  waking. 

Pontius  authorized  Mastor  to  call  on  any  of  the  slaves  busied 
in  laying  the  pavement  for  carrying  the  water.  It  was  not  the 
business  of  the  emperor's  body-slave  to  perform  especially 
menial  service;  but  ujjon  a  journey,  or  a  hunting  expedition, 
he  took  pleasure  in  looking  after  all  matters  connected  with 
his  master's  jaersonal  comfort.  The  sun  had  not  risen  when 
he  stepped  into  the  court,  and  some  of  the  slaves  were  still 
sleeping  on  their  mats;  others  were  gathered  in  groups  about 
a  fire  waiting  for  the  soup,  which  an  old  man  and  a  boy  were 
stirring  with  wooden  sticks.  Mastor  did  not  like  to  disturb 
either  of  these,  and  so  went  on  toward  another  group,  who 
seemed  to  bo  talking  together.  As  he  came  nearer,  he  per- 
ceived that  only  one  was  speaking,  and  the  others  were  listeners. 

The  heart  of  tlie  poor  Mastor  was  very  heary,  and  he  had 
no  disposition  to  hear  stories  or  jests.  Life  was  wholly  imbit- 
tered  for  him,  and  the  duties  to  the  emperor,  which  usually 
occupied  all  his  energies,  had  to-day  lost  their  interest.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  grief  li.id  loosoiud  the  bands  of  service,  and 
that  he  stood  a  lonely  and  in-esponsible  man. 

He  was  thinking  of  gatlicring  together  all  the  gold  pieces 


THE   EMPEROR.  121 

which  had  been  given  him,  either  by  Hadrian,  or  by  rich  peo- 
ple who  had  sohcited  his  help  in  securing  an  early  audience 
with  his  master,  and  going  away  to  the  city,  where,  with  wine- 
drinking  and  sensual  indulgence,  he  might  forget  himself  and 
his  troubles.  What  should  follow,  he  did  not  care.  If  found, 
he  might  be  scourged  to  death;  he  had  known  kicks  and  blows 
before  he  became  a  slave  of  the  emperor — once,  even,  while 
being  dragged  to  Eome,  had  been  set  upon  by  dogs.  And  if 
they  should  kill  him,  what  matter  would  it  be?  All  would 
then  be  over  at  a  blow,  and  life  seemed  to  offer  nothing  beyond 
weariness  in  the  service  of  a  restless  master,  heartache,  and 
scorn.  He  was  at  heart  a  good  fellow,  who  harmed  no  one, 
and  never  interfered  with  the  pleasure  of  others.  Least  of  all 
would  he  do  that  to-day,  for  he  whose  own  heart  is  heavy  with 
sorrow  is  especially  careful  not  to  disturb  others.  So,  as  he 
came  nearer  to  the  group,  he  determined  to  delay  the  proffer 
of  his  request  until  the  speaker  had  finished.  This  was  an  old 
workman — but  from  his  long  hair  one  could  tell  that  he  was  a 
freedman — and  since  he  wore  also  a  long  white  beard,  Mastor 
sujiposed  him  either  a  Jew  or  a  Phoenician.  The  flame  from 
under  the  soui^-kettle  lighted  his  face,  revealing  nothing  un- 
usual, except  the  steady  elevation  of  his  eyes  toward  heaven, 
while  liis  head  rested  upon  his  raised  hands. 

"  And  now,  brethren,"  he  said,  letting  his  hands  fall  to  his 
side,  "  we  will  return  to  our  work.  '  In  the  sweat  of  thy  face, 
shalt  thou  eat  bread  ' — so  it  is  written.  We,  who  are  old,  find 
it  pretty  hard  to  carry  the  stones,  and  to  bend  the  stiff  back  so 
long;  but  then  we  are  nearer  the  beautiful  time  than  the  rest 
of  you.  Life  is  not  easy  to  any  of  us,  but  the  Lord  has  invit- 
ed, first  of  all,  as  His  guests,  those  who  carry  trouble  and  bur- 
dens; and  the  slaves  among  us  are  certainly  not  the  least  of 
such." 

"  '  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  are  weary  and  heavy  laden, 
and  I  will  give  you  rest;'  "  broke  in  a  younger  man,  repeating 
these  words  of  Christ. 

"Yes,  those  are  the  words  of  our  Saviour,"  said  the  old 
man  in  a  tone  of  hearty  assent,  "  and  I  think  He  had  us  in 
mind.  As  I  said  before,  life  is  not  so  easy  for  any  of  us;  but 
how  much  heavier  was  the  burden  He  took  upon  Himself  to 
deliver  us  from  suffering.  All  must  work,  even  the  emperor. 
But  He,  who  might  have  lived  in  the  glory  of  His  Father,  let 
Himself  be  scorned  and  derided  and  spit  upon — let  thorns  be 
thrust  into  His  forehead,  and  before  the  heavy  cross,  whose 
weight  crushed  Him,  and  suffered  the  most  painful  death  with- 
out a  murruur,  for  our  sakes.     But  He  did  not  suffer  in  vain, 


192  THE  EMPEROR. 

for  the  Father  accepted  the  offering  of  His  son,  and  said: 
'  Wliosoever  believeth  in  Him  shall  not  perif^h,  but  have  ever- 
lasting life. '  Let  then  another  hard  day  begin,  and  a  hundred 
more  follow;  let  death  cut  us  off  from  life:  we  believe  in  our 
Redeemer,  we  have  the  promise  of  God  to  receive  us  out  of  all 
pain  and  sorrow  into  His  heaven,  there  to  exchange  the  short 
period  of  misery  for  unending  centuries  of  joy.  Go  now  to  the 
■work.  My  Knakias,  the  stout  Krates  will  gladly  take  your 
work  until  your  finger  is  healed.  And  when  the  bread  is  dis- 
tributed let  us  all  remember  the  children  of  our  dear  departed 
Philammon.  The  work  will  be  hard  for  you  to-day,  my  poor 
Gibbius.  My  dear  brethren,  the  master  of  this  man  sold  yes- 
terday his  daughters  to  the  ti-ader  from  Smyrna,  But  com- 
fort yourself,  brother,  with  the  thought  that  though  you  do 
not  find  them  again  in  Egyjit,  or  any  other  laud,  you  will  cer- 
tainly see  them  in  the  house  of  your  Heavenly  Father.  Our 
path  lies  through  this  world,  but  heaven  is  its  goal,  and  the 
Leader  who  will  never  fail  us  is  our  Redeemer.  And  we  shall 
all  bear  the  labor,  and  sorrow,  and  anxiety  easier  for  remem- 
bering that  when  the  festal  evening  comes  the  King  of  Kings 
will  open  His  doors,  and  bid  us  each  enter  as  His  guests,  with 
all  that  we  have  loved  here." 

"  '  Come  unto  Me  all  ye  that  are  weary  and  heavy  laden, 
and  I  will  give  you  rest,'  "  repeated  another  voice  out  of  the 
group. 

The  old  man  rose  and  nodded  to  a  boy,  who  2:)assed  the 
bread,  cut  into  pieces  of  equal  size,  while  he  poured  wine  into 
a  wooden  cup  from  a  large  pitcher. 

Master  had  not  lost  a  w^ord  of  this  speech,  and  the  words, 
twice  repeated:  "Come  unto  Me  all  ye  that  are  weary  and 
heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest,"  sounded  in  his  ears  like 
a  kindly  invitation  to  beautiful  days  of  joy  and  freedom.  In 
this  night-time  of  liis  sorrows  it  seemed  a  distant  gleam  which 
promised  a  )iew  morning. 

He  approached  the  old  man  to  ask  if  he  were  the  overseer 
of  this  band  of  workmen. 

"  I  am  so,"  answered  the  old  man;  and  on  learning  that 
Mastor  had  come  in  the  name  of  Pontius,  pointed  out  a  few  of 
the  younger  slaves,  who  quickly  carried  the  needful  water  to 
the  palace. 

Pontius  met  them  on  the  way,  and  remarked  to  Pollux,  who 
accompanied  him: 

"  The  slave  of  the  Roman  architect  has  called  on  the  Chris- 
tians to  serve  his  master.  They  are  an  orderly  and  temperate 
Bet,  and  always  faithful  to  their  dutiea  " 


THE  EMPEEOR.  133 

While  Master  assisted  at  the  toilet  of  the  emperor,  his  serv- 
ice was -unusually  remiss,  for  the  words  he  had  so  latel}'  heard 
occupied  his  thoughts.  He  had  not  understood  all,  but  he 
did  comprehend  that  there  was  a  friendly  God,  who  had  suf- 
fered torment  in  His  own  person,  and  who  was  specially  kind 
to  the  poor  and  miserable,  and  who  had  promised  to  gather 
together  again  those  who  had  loved  each  other  here. 

The  "  Come  unto  Me  "  rang  so  comfortingly  in  his  heart,  as 
to  remind  him  of  the  mother  who  had  often  called  him  to  her 
side,  and  opened  both  arms  to  receive  and  press  him  to  her 
heart,  and  as  he  had  loved  to  clasp  his  own  dear  son.  The 
thought  that  some  Being  loved  him  in  this  way — he,  the  poor, 
lonely,  forsaken  man — who  could  release  him  from  his  bur- 
dens, and  would  at  last  restore  to  him  father,  mother,  and  the 
dear  ones  of  his  own  broken  home,  took  away  half  the  bitter- 
ness of  his  sorrow.  He  always  heard  conversation  that  was 
carried  on  in  the  emperor's  presence,  and  as  the  years  went 
on,  had  learned  to  miderstand  it  more  and  more.  There  he 
had  heard  of  the  Christians,  but  they  were  always  spoken  of 
as  erratic  and  dangerous,  though  there  were,  at  that  time,  a 
few  thoughtful  men  who  sometimes — and  so  had  Hadrian 
himself — taken  their  part.  He  had  also  heard  some  of  his  fel- 
low-slaves spoken  of  as  Christian  fools.  But  now,  for  the  first 
time.  Master  knew  from  their  own  mouths  what  they  believed 
and  hoped,  and  he  could  scarcely  wait  to  finish  his  duties  be- 
fore seeking  the  old  man  again,  among  the  workers  on  the 
pavement,  to  hear  once  more  those  words  of  hope  and  comfort. 

So  soon  as  Hadrian  and  Autinous  had  entered  their  sitting- 
room,  Master  hastened  to  the  Christian  in  the  court  and  sought 
to  engage  him  in  conversation.  But  the  old  man  answered 
that  all  things  must  have  their  time.  At  present  the  work 
could  not  be  interrupted,  but  after  sunset  released  them  from 
toil,  he  would  speak  again  of  Him  who  had  invited  the  heavy 
laden. 

Master  thought  no  more  of  running  away,  and  when  he  re- 
turned to  the  emperor,  such  a  sunny  glance  was  in  his  blue 
eyes,  that  the  words  of  rebuke  Hadrian  had  intended  for  his 
ear  were  unspoken;  and  turning  to  Antinous,  said: 

"  I  tliink  the  fellow  has  already  comforted  himself  with  a 
new  love.  Let  us,  as  far  as  we  may,  follow  the  advice  of  Hor- 
ace, and  enjoy  the  present.  Though  the  poet  may  let  the  fut- 
ure go  as  it  will,  I  can  not  quite  do  that,  for  unfortunately  I 
am  emperor. 

"  Eome  knows  how  to  thank  the  gods  that  you  are  so/'  an- 
swered Antinous. 


134  THE  EMPEROE. 

"  "^Vhat  happy  cxpressioTis  this  fellow  does  sometimes  find," 
said  nadriaii,  smiling,  and  stroking  the  brown  locks  of  his 
favorite.  "  Now  I  must  work  until  noon,  with  Plilegou  and 
Titianus,  whom  I  exj^ect  immediately;  and  after  that  we  may 
find  some  amusement  together.  Ask  the  tall  sculj^tor  behind 
the  screen  at  what  hour  he  expects  Balbilla  for  her  sitting. 
We  must  examine  the  work  of  the  architect  and  the  Alex- 
andrian artists  by  daylight;  their  zeal  deserves  this  attention.'" 

Hadrian  went  to  the  a2:)artment  where  his  private  secretary 
had  the  letters  and  disjjatches  from  Rome  and  the  provinces 
ready  for  his  perusal. 

Antinous  stood  for  some  time  where  he  left  him,  watching 
the  ships  as  they  cast  their  anchors,  or  left  the  roadstead,  and 
the  little  boats  that  swarmed  about  the  large  vessels,  as  wasps 
around  ripe  fruit.  He  heard,  too,  the  song  of  the  sailors, 
and  the  flute  jjlayers,  with  which  the  oar-strokes  of  the  great 
triremes  were  keeping  time.  He  rejoiced  in  the  clear  blue  sky, 
and  the  fresh,  sweet  air  of  morning,  and  speculated  a  little  as 
to  whether  the  odor  of  tan,  wafted  across  the  harbor,  Avas  agree- 
able or  not.  But  as  the  sun  rose  higher  the  brilliance  dazzled 
him.  Yawning,  he  retired  from  the  window,  and  threw  him- 
self upon  a  couch  and  stared  with  very  little  interest  at  the 
faded  ceiling. 

Idleness  had  become  the  occupation  of  his  life,  but  he  found 
its  gray  shadow,  ennui,  detracting  from  every  pleasure.  These 
lonely  hours  were  usually  sjient  in  lazy  dreaming  of  his  kindred 
in  Bithynia,  of  whom  he  dared  not  speak  to  the  emperor,  or  of 
the  hunting  matches  he  had  undertaken  with  Hadrian,  of  the 
wild  game,  or  the  fish  which,  as  a  skillful  angler,  he  had 
caught,  or  of  kindred  toj^ics.  But  he  had  no  concern  for  the 
future — no  love  of  work,  no  ambition,  no  passionate  eagerness 
in  any  direction.  He  cared  nothing  for  the  admiration  his 
beauty  excited,  and  often  had  scarcely  mterest  enough  in  life 
to  move  a  limb  or  draw  a  breath. 

He  was  inditferent  to  almost  everything,  except  the  words  of 
the  emperor,  who  seemed  to  him  greater  than  all  other  beings 
together.  Him  he  feared  as  fate,  and  to  him  he  felt  himself 
united  as  in  the  flower  to  its  stem — that  would  die  if  the  stem, 
on  which  it  hung  as  a  gracefid  ornament,  were  to  be  destroyed. 

But  to-day,  as  he  lay  stretched  on  the  divan,  his  thoughts 
took  a  new  direction.  He  could  not  forget  the  jDale  maiden  he 
had  rescued  from  the  teeth  of  the  Molossian — he  felt  again  the 
cold  white  hand  upon  his  neck,  and  heard  the  cool  words  with 
which  she  had  left  him.  Antinous  began  to  long  for  Selene, 
the  same  Antinous  who,  in  every  citv  he  visited  with  the  cm- 


THE    EMPEROE.  125 

peror,  especially  in  Eome — received  letters  and  bunches  of  flow- 
ers from  the  most  celebrated  beauties — and  since  he  had  left 
his  mother's  home  had  cared  for  no  woman  as  he  did  for  the 
horse  Hadrian  had  given  him,  or  for  the  great  Molossian  dog. 

This  girl  seemed  to  him  like  breathing  marble.  Perhaps 
whoever  she  should  clasp  to  her  breast  must  lose  his  life;  but 
that  slow  congealing  of  the  blood  seemed  to  him  a  more  at- 
tractive death  than  one  caused  by  a  too  rapid  beating  of  the 
heart. 

"  Selene,"  he  murmured,  with  a  slight  tremor  of  the  lips. 
That  strange,  silent  presence  had  taken  possession  of  his  whole 
being,  and  he  who  formerly  would  lie  stretched  dreamily  on 
his  couch,  without  counting  the  hours,  now  sprung  from  the 
reclining  j^osture,  and  walked  the  apartment  with  long  strides. 
A  passionate  longing  drove  him  up  and  down,  and  the  wish  to 
see  her  led  him  to  devise  some  means  by  which  he  might  ac- 
complish the  purjoose.  It  seemed  impossible  to  press  himself 
into  the  dwelling  of  her  enraged  father  without  some  ex- 
cuse, and  yet  he  knew  she  must  be  there,  for  the  injury  to  her 
foot  would  prevent  her  leaving  the  house.  Could  he  go  again 
to  ask  the  overseer  for  bread  and  salt? 

After  the  scene  so  lately  enacted  he  dared  ask  nothing  of 
Keraunus  in  the  name  of  Hadrian.  What  if  he  were  to  take 
a  pitcher,  to  replace  the  one  broken?  That  might  only  irritate 
still  more  the  haughty  man. 

After  dismissing  various  projects,  he  remembered  that  he 
possessed  a  few  rare  essences,  which  had  been  given  him  by  the 
emperor.  From  these  he  would  select  something  that  might 
be  useful  for  her  injured  foot.  This  act  of  compassion  would 
certainly  not  displease  his  master,  who  had  offered  assistance 
of  that  sort  in  his  conversation  with  Keraunus.  He  called 
Mastor  to  watch  the  dog,  who  had  closely  followed  his  prome- 
nading of  the  apartment;  then  going  to  his  bedroom  he  took 
a  costly  flask,  which  had  been  a  gift  of  Hadrian  on  his  last 
birthday,  and  which  had  once  belonged  to  Plotina,  the  wife  of 
Trajan.  Then  he  went  out  to  seek  the  overseer's  dwelling. 
On  the  steps  where  he  had  found  Selene  sat  the  old  negro, 
who,  in  fear  of  the  dog,  dared  venture  no  further.  Antinous 
requested  the  slave  to  lead  him  to  his  master's  dwelling.  The 
negro  went  forward,  and  throwing  ojoen  the  door  of  the  outer 
room,  pointed  toward  the  common  room,  saying:  "  Yonder; 
but  Keraunus  is  not  at  homo."  Without  troubling  himself 
further  the  negro  returned  to  the  children,  while  the  Bithynian 
stood  in  doubt  as  to  what  he  ought  to  do,  with  the  vial  in  his 
hand.     He  could  hear  voices  in  conversation  with  Selene,  and 


126  THE    EMPEROR. 

one  of  them  was  that  of  a  man ;  and  still  hesitating,  the  voice 
of  Arsinoe  crying  out:  "  Who  is  there?"  made  further  progress 
necessary. 

Selene  stood  in  the  room,  dressed  in  a  white  garment,  and 
with  a  veil  about  her  head,  as  if  prepared  to  go  out,  while 
Arsinoe  was  perched  upon  the  edge  of  a  table  covered  with  an 
array  of  old-fashioned  articles.  A  Phoenician,  who  stood  be- 
side the  table  with  a  handsomely  carved  cup  in  his  hand, 
seemed  to  be  bargaining  with  her. 

Kerauuus  had  gone  that  morning  to  a  relic  dealer,  but  not 
finding  him  at  home,  had  left  an  order  for  him  to  call  and  ex- 
amine various  articles. 

The  Phoenician  had  arrived  before  the  return  of  Keraunus 
from  the  council,  and  Arsinoe  was  exhibiting  the  articles,  ex- 
patiating upon  their  value  in  the  meantime  \vitli  much  en- 
thusiasm. 

Unfortunately,  Hiram  did  not  count  them  of  any  higher 
worth  than  had  Gabinius.  Selene,  expecting  only  failure, 
wished  to  bring  the  affair  to  an  end,  for  the  time  Avas  near  at 
hand  when  the  sisters  must  be  in  the  papyrus  mill.  The  re- 
fusal of  Arsinoe  to  accompany  her,  and  the  prayer  of  the  old 
slave  that  she  would  at  least  to-day  sjjare  her  foot,  only  elicited 
the  firm  rejaly: 

'■'I  shall  go.'' 

The  appearance  of  Antinous  disturbed  her. 

Arsinoe  thought  him  handsome  but  awkward;  the  relic 
dealer  looked  at  him  in  admiration,  and  was  the  first  to  offer 
a  greeting.  Antinous  returned  it,  bowed  to  the  sisters,  and 
said,  addressing  Selene: 

"We  have  heard  that  you  received  an  injury  to  both  head 
and  foot;  and  since  we  were  the  cause  of  your  suft'ering,  per- 
mit me  to  offer  this  vial,  which  contains  an  excellent  remedy.'' 

"I  thank  you,"  answered  the  young  woman;  "but  I  feel 
so  much  better  that  I  shall  try  to  go  out. " 

"  You  ought  not  to  do  that,"  replied  Antinous,  very  ear- 
nestly. 

"  I  must  go,"  said  Selene. 

' '  At  least,  keep  the  vial,  that  you  may  make  an  application 
after  your  return.  Ten  drops  in  a  vessel  of  water,  like  that 
one  yonder." 

"  J  can  do  it,  then." 

"  You  will  soon  learn  how  healing  it  is.  I  hope  you  are  no 
longer  angry  with  us?" 

'^No." 


THE   EMPEROR.  127 

*'  That  makes  me  glad,"  cried  he,  looking  upon  her  with  his 
great  dreamy  eyes  full  of  silent  passion. 

Selene  misunderstood  their  expression,  and  asked,  in  a  cooler 
tone  than  before: 

"  To  whom  shall  I  return  the  vial  after  using  its  contents?" 

"  Please  keep  it,"  begged  Antinous.  "  It  is  handsome,  and 
would  have  double  worth  for  me  if  I  knew  it  to  be  in  your 
iwssession." 

"  It  is  very  pretty;  but  I  never  accept  gifts." 

"  Then  break  it  after  you  have  used  it.  You  have  not  yet 
forgiven  the  savage  trick  of  our  dog,  and  we  are  heartily 
sorry." 

"  I  am  not  angry.    Arsinoe,  pour  the  medicine  into  a  vase.'^ 

Arsinoe  did  as  she  was  requested;  but  in  doing  so,  she  no- 
ticed the  beautiful  play  of  colors  in  the  glass,  and  said,  frankly: 

"  If  my  sister  will  not  have  it,  please  give  it  to  me.  How 
can  you  make  such  an  ado  about  nothing,  Selene?" 

"■  Then  take  it,"  said  Antinous,  looking  down  at  the  floor, 
with  a  sudden  memory  of  the  high  value  Hadrian  placed  on 
the  little  vessel,  and  a  fear  that  it  might  be  called  for. 

Selene  shrugged  her  shoulders  as  she  wound  the  veil  about 
her  head,  and  said,  with  a  reproachful  look  at  her  sister: 

"  It  is  high  time." 

"  I  do  not  want  to  go  to-day,"  said  Arsinoe,  stubbornly; 
' '  and  it  is  madness  for  you  to  walk  a  quarter  of  an  hour  with 
that  swollen  foot." 

"  It  were  much  better  to  spare  yourself,"  said  the  trader, 
respectfully;  and  Antinous  added: 

"  I+'  you  make  yourself  worse,  it  will  be  sharpening  our  self- 
reproach." 

"  I  must  go,"  answered  Selene,  decidedly;  ''  and  you  ought 
to  go  with  me,  sister." 

This  was  certainly  not  a  decision  of  obstinacy,  but  one  forced 
upon  her  by  harsh  necessity.  If  she  failed  to  be  at  the  papy- 
rus mill  on  that  day  she  would  lose  the  wages  of  not  only  the 
week  past,  but  also  of  that  to  come — both  her  own  and  Arsi- 
noe ^s.  The  emperor  had  promised  the  rich  owner  of  the  mill 
to  pay  him  a  visit,  and  since  some  repairs  were  to  be  made  in 
the  old  structure,  and  it  was  to  be  adorned  in  honor  of  that 
event,  leave  of  absence  had  been  given  to  all  the  work-peoi3le, 
without  deduction  of  wages — which  were  to  be  paid  to-day,  in 
advance.  And  Selene  needed  this  money  for  the  support  of 
the  family,  and  she  summoned  her  will  for  the  effort.  Seeing 
that  Arsinoe  gave  no  sign  of  following,  she  asked  again,  with 
severe  earnestness: 


128  THE  EMPEROR. 

"  Will  you  come?    Yes  or  no?'' 

*'  No/'  cried  Arsinoe,  sitting  more  firmly  on  the  table. 

*'  Then  must  I  go  alone?" 

"  You  ought  to  stay  at  home. " 

Selene  stepped  nearer  and  looked  her  sister  reproachfully 
in  the  face.  But  Arsinoe  insisted  on  having  her  own  way. 
She  pouted  and  pounded  three  times  on  the  table,  crying  out: 

"  No — no — no!" 

Selene  beckoned  to  the  old  slave  woman  and  commanded 
her  to  stay  in  the  room  until  her  father  should  return;  then 
saluted  the  trader  politely,  and  with  only  an  indifferent  nod  to 
Antinous,  left  the  room.  The  youth  followed  and  overtook 
her  when  she  stopped  to  speak  with  the  children.  She  straight- 
ened their  garments  and  charged  them  to  keep  away  from  the 
passage,  where  they  might  meet  the  dog. 

Antinous  stroked  the  curling  locks  of  the  blind  boy  and 
asked  Selene,  when  she  turned  to  climb  the  steps: 

"  Will  you  permit  me  to  heljj  3-011?" 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  for  her  first  effort  to  walk  had  caused 
sharp  pain.  She  extended  her  elbow  that  he  might  support 
her  by  placing  his  hand  beneath. 

Even  then  she  would  certainly  have  declined  his  offer  of  as- 
sistance had  she  cared  at  all  for  this  favorite  of  Hadrian,  but 
she  carried  the  image  of  another  man  in  her  heart,  and  did  not 
even  perceive  the  beauty  of  Antinous. 

Never  before  had  his  heart  beat  so  violently  as  during  the 
few  moments  in  which  he  M'as  jjermitted  to  touch  the  arm  of 
Selene.  He  was  intoxicated  with  emotion,  yet  he  did  not  fail 
to  perceive  her  pain  while  climbing. 

"  Oh,  stay  at  home  to-day  and  spare  yourself,"  he  begged, 
more  than  once,  with  trembling  voice. 

"  You  weary  me,"  she  replied  in  displeasure;  "  I  must  go, 
and  it  is  not  very  far." 

"  Will  you  allow  me  to  accompany  you?" 

She  laughed  aloud,  and  answered,  with  a  little  scorn : 

"  Certainly  not.  Lead  me  through  the  passage,  that  the 
dog  may  not  again  attack  me.  Then  you  can  go  where  you 
please,  except  with  me." 

He  obeyed,  and,  at  the  point  where  the  passage  entered  a 
wider  hall,  she  said:  "Good-bye,"  and  expressed  her  thanks 
in  a  few  friendly  words. 

Tliere  were  two  ways  leading  out.  One  passed  over  the 
bastion  and  the  ten-ace,  having  numy  ascents  ,and  descents; 
the  other  was  through  the  ])alace.  She  was  forced  to  choose 
the  latter,  for  it  was  quite  impossible  to  go  u])  and  down  the 


THE   EMPEROR.  129 

stairs  without  help;  but  she  shrunk  from  meeting  so  manj* 
men  as  were  now  gathered  in  the  building. 

She  thought  of  asking  her  old  playmate,  Pollux,  to  lead  her 
through  the  crowd  as  far  as  to  the  house  of  his  father. 

But  this  did  not  seem  easy,  for  since  the  hour  when  he  had 
first  shown  the  bust  of  her  mother  to  Arsinoe,  instead  of  her- 
self, she  had  felt  piqued  and  angry.  To  him  she  had  opened 
wide  her  weary  and  desolate  heart  during  the  frequent  con- 
versations they  had  held  within  a  few  days  past.  Twice  she 
had  served  him  as  a  model,  and  she  had  jDromised  to  go  again 
for  that  purpose  on  the  coming  evening.  They  had  talked 
together  on  many  things,  and  even  of  love,  fie  had  waxed 
eloquent  in  assuring  her  that  a  good  husband  was  all  she  wanted 
to  make  her  sad  heart  happy  and  hght.  She  had  blushed,  and 
he  had  looked  down  on  his  own  great  hands;  but  she  had 
thought  she  could  enjoy  life  at  his  side.  It  seemed  to  her 
that  they  had  been  created  for  each  other.  Then  why  had  he 
first  shown  the  bust  to  Arsinoe?  She  would  ask  him,  and  let 
him  know  that  it  had  troubled  her.  At  any  rate,  she  must  go 
and  tell  him  that,  on  account  of  her  injured  foot,  she  could 
not  stand  as  a  model  this  evening. 

With  steadily  increasing  pain  she  entered  the  Hall  of  the 
Muses,  and  approached  the  screen  which  hid  her  old  playfel- 
low. But  he  was  not  alone;  for  she  heard  voices,  and  the 
merry  laugh  of  a  woman.  Just  as  she  was  about  to  call  the 
name  of  Pollux,  the  voice  exclaimed,  louder  and  merrier: 

"  Ah,  that  is  too  bold!  Are  you  my  dressing-maid?  "What 
liberties  an  artist  presumes  to  take!'^ 

"  Say  yes,^^  he  begged  in  the  saane  voice  which  more  than 
once  had  persuaded  her  own  action.  "  You  are  very  beauti- 
ful, Balbilla;  but  if  you  allow  me  this,  it  would  make  you  still 
more  so." 

Again  the  merry  laugh  echoed  behind  the  screen.  The  tone 
must  have  hurt  the  poor  Selene,  for  she  shrugged  her  shoul- 
ders, and  her  features  woi'ked  as  though  suft'ering  pain. 

She  pressed  both  hands  to  her  side  as  she  turned  from  the 
place  and  limped  into  the  court. 

What  tortured  the  poor  girl  so  keenly?  Was  it  the  need  of 
the  family?  Was  it  the  bodily  pain,  which  grew  at  every  step, 
or  was  it  the  chilled,  wounded  heart,  deceived  in  its  last  opened 
and  fairest  hope. 


130  THE    EMTEROB. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

When  Selene  went  out,  she  usually  met  admiration  from 
the  passers-by — but  to-day,  a  coujile  of  street  urchins  followed, 
crying  as  they  kept  pace  with  her  halting  step:  "  Click — 
clack — '' 

The  mirth  of  the  thoughtless  creatures  was  excited  by  the 
steady  fall  of  her  unbuckled  shoe  on  the  pavement. 

But  while  she,  under  an  accumulation  of  miseries,  ap- 
proached the  papyrus  mill,  joy  and  delight  visited  Arsinoe — 
for  scarcely  had  her  sister  and  Antinous  left  the  dwelling  when 
Hiram,  the  relic  dealer,  begged  permission  to  look  at  the  glass 
vessel  which  the  handsome  youth  had  given  lier.  He  examined 
it  carefully,  turning  it  on  all  sides  in  the  sunlight;  testing  its 
quality  through  contact  with  the  stone  in  his  finger-riiig,  and 
murmured  hghtly  to  himself:  "  Vasa  murrhina." 

The  sharp  ears  of  Arsinoe  caught  these  word's,  for  she  had 
learned  from  her  father  that  the  most  costly  vases  with  which 
the  wealthy  Romans  adorned  their  apartments  were  of  "  vasa 
murrhina. "  So  she  told  him  she  knew  what  great  sums  were 
paid  for  that  ware,  and  she  must  have  a  very  good  price 
if  she  were  to  sell  her  late  gift.  He  made  an  ofler,  but  she 
laughingly  increased  it  tenfold;  and  after  a  half-playful  and 
half-earnest  bargaining,  the  Phoenician  said,  decidedly: 

"  Two  thousand  drachmas;  not  a  sesterce  more.*' 

*'  That  is  certainly  not  enough;  but  you  can  have  it." 

"  I  should  not  give  half  that  sum  to  a  less  pretty  customer. '' 

"  And  I  only  let  you  have  it  because  you  are  such  a  nice 
man." 

"  1  will  send  you  the  money  before  sunset." 

These  words  made  the  girl  thoughtful — who  had  been  at 
lirst  so  overcome  by  delight  and  surprise,  that  she  would  in- 
stinctively have  thrown  her  arms  around  the  neck  of  either  the 
trader  or  the  slave  woman;  or,  better  still,  have  taken  the 
whole  world  into  her  embrace — for  her  father  Avould  soon 
come,  and  she  was  afraid  he  might  disapprove  her  bargain,  and 
return  the  vase  to  the  young  man  and  the  money  to  "the  mer- 
chant. She  would  never  have  asked  for  it,  had  she  had  any 
conception  of  its  value.  But  now  it  certainly  belonged  to  her, 
and  if  it  were  to  be  restored,  no  one  would  be  satisfied;  for  the 
stranger  would  feel  insulted,  and  she  'would  lose  the  greatest 
pleasure  of  all  her  life.  What  was  to  be  done?  She  still  sat 
on  the  table's  edge,  holding  one  foot  in  her  hand,  and  in  this 


THE    EMPEROR.  131 

saucy  attitude  studied  tlie  floor  as  earnestly  as  though  provis- 
ion for  the  future  were  to  be  read  among  the  figures  described 
there.  The  trader  amused  himself  with  the  embarrassment 
which  made  her  charming,  and  wished,  in  that  moment,  that 
his  son,  a  young  painter,  were  standing  in  his  place.  But  at 
length  he  broke  his  silence,  saying: 

*'  You  fear  that  your  father  will  not  like  our  bargaining  in 
his  absence;  and  yet  it  is  for  him  that  you  wish  to  make  the 
money." 

"  Who  said  that?" 

"  Would  he  have  offered  me  his  treasures  if  he  had  not  need- 
ed the  money?" 

"It  is  only — I  can  but — "  stammered  Arsinoe,  who  was 
little  jDracticed  in  deception.      "If  I  do  not  confess  to  him — " 

"  I  have  seen  how  innocently  you  came  by  this  vase,"  an- 
swered the  dealer,  "  and  Keraunus  need  know  nothing  of  the 
matter.  You  can  suppose  it  to  be  broken,  and  its  fragments 
lying  in  the  sea  yonder.  Which  of  these  things  does  your 
father  consider  of  the  least  value?" 

"  This  old  sword  of  Marc  Antony,"  said  the  girl,  her  face 
growing  brighter.  ' '  He  says  it  is  too  long  and  narrow  for 
that  which  it  pretends  to  be.  For  my  part,  I  think  it  was 
never  meant  for  a  sword,  but  for  a  roasting-spit. " 

"  I  will  send  it  to  my  kitchen  for  that  purpose,"  replied  the 
dealer;  "  but  I  offer  two  thousand  drachmas  for  it;  I  will  take 
it  with  me,  and  send  you  the  amount  in  a  few  hours.  Will 
that  be  agreeable?" 

Arsinoe  dropped  her  foot,  slid  down  from  her  seat,  and 
clapped  her  hands  joyfully  for  an  answer. 

"Tell  him,"  went  on  the  dealer,  "I  can  afford  to  pay 
more  for  such  things  now,  because  the  emperor  will  certainly 
be  looking  after  what  Julius  Cfesar,  Marc  Antony,  Octavius 
Augustus,  and  other  great  Eomans  have  used  while  in  Egypt, 
I  would  like  to  have  the  old  woman  carry  out  the  roasting-spit. 
My  slave  is  waiting  outside,  and  will  take  it  under  his  chiton 
to  my  kitchen  door.  Otherwise,  he  might  meet  those  who 
would  envy  him  the  costly  treasure.  It  is  always  well  to  be 
protected  from  envious  glances. " 

The  dealer  laughed,  hid  the  vial  of  Antinous  in  his  robe, 
gave  the  sword  to  the  old  woman,  and  took  leave  of  Arsinoe. 

80  soon  as  left  alone,  she  put  on  her  shoes  and  veil  to  run  to 
the  papyrus  mill.  Selene  must  hear  of  this  unexpected  good 
fortune,  and  then  she  would  bring  the  poor  girl  home  in  a 
sedan  chair,  which  one  could  always  find  near  the  harbor. 

Though  there  was  more  of  apparent  discord  than  harmony 


132  THE  EMPEROR. 

in  the  intercourse  of  these  sisters,  yet  whatever  Arsinoe  met, 
of  either  good  or  bad,  she  wished  at  once  to  share  with  Selene. 

"Everlasting  gods,  what  luck!"  Now  she  would  be  able 
to  go  among  the  daughters  of  the  rich  citizens  as  well  dressed 
as  auy  of  them,  and  take  her  full  share  in  the  festiv^ity;  and 
besides,  a  nice  sum  would  be  left  for  the  family,  and  the  work 
in  the  mill,  which  disgusted  her,  she  hoped  would  now  be  for- 
ever unnecessary. 

The  old  slave  still  sat  with  the  children  near  the  steps. 
Arsinoe  lifted  each  one  to  bestow  a  kiss,  and  whispered: 

"  You  shall  have  cakes  this  evening!" 

She  pressed  her  lips  on  both  eyes  of  the  blmd  boy,  and  said: 

"  You  may  go  with  me,  dear  little  fellow.  I  shall  have  a 
litter  for  Selene,  and  you  can  be  put  in  with  her,  and  be  brought 
home  like  a  rich  gentleman. " 

The  little  fellow  threw  up  his  hands,  exclaiming  joyfully: 

"  Through  the  air,  through  the  air,  and  not  a  fall!"" 

While  still  holding  him  in  her  arms,  Keraunus,  excited,  and 
with  dripping  foreliead  and  panting  for  breath,  came  up  the 
steps  from  the  bastion,  and  exclaimed  as  soon  as  he  sufficiently 
recovered  breath: 

"  I  have  just  met  Hiram,  with  the  sword  of  Marc  Antony. 
You  were  a  fool  to  sell  it  for  two  thousand  draclimas!'' 

*'But,  father,"  said  Arsinoe,  laughing,  "  30U  would  have 
given  it  for  a  pasty  and  a  swallow  of  wine. " 

"I,"  exclaimed  Keraunus,  ''should  probably  have  got 
three  times  as  much  in  exchange  for  this  venerable  relic,  which 
the  emperor  might  have  paid  talents  to  possess — but  sold  is 
sold.  I  did  not  expose  your  ignorance  to  the  dealer,  and  can 
not  blame  you.  Still,  the  thought  of  no  longer  owning  the 
sword  of  Marc  Antony  will  give  me  sleepless  nights." 

"  If  we  set  a  nice  piece  of  meat  before  you  this  evening,  I 
think  the  slumber  will' follow,"  answered  Arsinoe,  taking  the 
handkerchief  from  his  hand,  and  wiping  his  face  in  a  caressing 
manner.  "  We  are  rich  people  now,  father,  and  will  show  the 
daughters  of  the  other  citizens  what  we  are  able  to  do. " 

"  You  must  both  take  part  in  the  festivity,"  said  the  over- 
seer, with  decision.  "  The  emperor  shall  sec  that  I  do  not 
shrink  from  a  sacrifice  in  his  honor,  and  when  he  sees  my 
daughters,  and  I  bring  my  charges  against  the  architect—"  - 

"  You  can  let  that  drop,  father,  if  Selene's  foot  is  well 
again. " 

"  Where  is  she?" 
"Gone  out."  ^ 


THE  EMPEROR.  133 

"  Then  her  foot  is  not  so  very  bad.  I  hope  she  will  soon 
come  home/' 

"  Perhaps  so.  I  was  going  just  now  to  fetch  her  in  a  lit- 
ter." 

"  A  htter?''  asked  Keraunus,  astonished.  "  The  two  thou- 
sand drachmas  have  turned  the  girFs  head. " 

"  On  account  of  her  foot.  It  was  very  painful  when  she 
went  out. " 

"  Why,  then,  did  she  not  stay  at  home?  As  usual,  there 
will  be  a  whole  hour  of  haggling  over  one  sesterce,  and  neither 
of  you  have  any  time  to  lose.'' 

"  I  will  seek  her  at  once." 

"  No,  no,  you  at  least  must  stay  here,  for  in  two  hours  the 
women  and  girls  will  assemble  in  the  theater." 

"  In  two  hours!     But,  Great  Serapis,  what  shall  we  wear?" 

*'  It  is  your  business  to  arrange  that,"  answered  Keraunus. 
"  I  will  order  for  myself  the  litter  of  which  you  spoke,  and  be 
carried  to  Tryjohon's  house  and  back  again.  Is  there  any 
money  in  Selene's  box?" 

Arsinoe  went  to  her  sleej)ing-room,  and  returned,  saying: 

"  Six  double  drachmas,  that  is  all." 

"Four  will  be  enough,"  answered  Keraunus;  but  after 
thinking  a  moment,  took  it  all. 

"  What  do  you  want  of  the  shipwright?"  asked  Arsinoe. 

"I  was  plagued  again  on  your  account  in  the  council.  I 
said  one  of  my  daughters  was  sick,  and  the  other  was  needed 
to  nurse  her.  But  that  did  not  satisfy  them — they  still  wanted 
the  one  who  was  not  sick.  Then  I  said  you  had  no  mother — 
that  we  lived  by  ourselves,  and  I  did  not  feel  willing  to  have 
my  child  go  alone  into  the  assembly.  And  Tryphon  replied 
that  it  would  be  a  pleasure  for  his  wife  to  take  you  into  the 
theater  with  her  own  daughter.  That  I  answered,  half  in 
play,  half  in  earnest,  saying  I  did  not  suppose  you  would  be 
willing  to  go  without  your  sister.  I  did  not  positively  refuse, 
and  you  know  the  reason. " 

"  Oh,  the  brave  Antony  and  his  royal  roasting-spit!"  cried 
Arsinoe.  "  Now  all  is  possible,  and  you  can  announce  us  to 
the  ship-master.  Our  wliite  dresses  are  still  quite  good ;  but,  on 
the  way,  you  must  buy  of  Abibaal  the  Phoenician  a  few  yards 
of  blue  ribbon  for  me,  and  of  red  for  Selene." 

"  Very  well — " 

*'  I  will  get  both  dresses  in  order,  but,  seriously,  when  must 
we  be  ready?" 

"  In  two  hours." 

"  Do  you  know  how  it  is,  little  father?" 


134  THE  EMPEROR. 

"  Well  then?" 

"  Our  old  slave  is  half  blind,  and  does  everything  wrong. 
Will  3'ou  allow  me  to  ask  Mother  Doris  from  the  gate-keeper's 
house  to  help  me?  She  is  so  kind  and  so  skillful,  and  she  irons 
so  nicely." 

"  Hush/'  interrupted  Keraunus;  "  those  jseople  shall  never 
cross  my  threshold." 

"  But  my  hair;  just  look  at  it!"  cried  Arsinoe,  running  her 
fingers  through  the  rich,  full  tresses.  "  To  put  that  up,  to 
weave  in  the  ribbons,  to  iron  the  two  dresses,  and  sew  on  the 
ornaments — even  the  dressing-maid  of  the  empress  could  not 
do  all  that." 

"  Doris  shall  never  cross  my  threshold,"  replied  Keraunus, 
again  and  again. 

"  Then  I  must  ask  Hippias  the  tailor  to  send  some  one;  but 
that  would  cost  something." 

"  We  have  enough,  and  can  do  it,"  answered  Keraunus  with 
pride,  repeating  over   his  commissions,  not   to  forget  any: 

Hippias  the  tailor— blue  ribbon— red  ribbon — shjpwi'ight 
Tryphon — " 

The  woman  sent  by  the  tailor  assisted  Arsinoe  to  put  the 
dresses  in  order,  and  was  unceasing  in  outspoken  admiration 
of  the  soft  and  shining  hair,  which  she  built  up  very  high, 
weaving  ribbons  through  and  through;  then  twisting  it  above 
the  comb,  again  to  fall  in  long  ringlets  over  her  neck. 

Keraunus  looked  with  pride  upon  his  lovely  daughter.  He 
was  also  delighted  with  the  money  just  brought  by  the  servant 
of  the  relic  dealer,  and  fairly  chuckled  as  he  counted  and  piled 
up  the  gold  jDieces. 

Arsinoe  whispered  while  he  was  thus  occupied : 

"Did  Hiram  take  any  advantage  of  me?"  but  Keraunus 
begged  her  not  to  disturb  him,  and  answered : 

Think  of  the  great  Antony's  weapon,  perhaps  tlie  very 
one  he  plunged  into  his  own  breast.  Why  does  Selene  stay 
out  so  long?" 

An  hour  and  a  half  had  passed,  and  as  she  still  delayed,  the 
overseer  declared  they  must  go;  for  it  would  not  do  to  keep 
Tryphon's  wife  waiting. 

Arsinoe  was  really  sorry  to  go  without  her  sister.  She  had 
taken  much  pains  to  jjut  lier  dress  in  order,  and  laid  it  across 
the  divan  near  the  mosaic  painting.  Never  hiid  Arsinoe  been 
alone  upon  the  street,  and  it  seemed  to  her  she  should  enjoy 
nothing  without  the  company  and  jirntcetion  of  Srlcne. 

But  the  confident  assurance  of  Keraunus  that  they  would 
be  glad  to  assign  her  a  place  somewhat  later  reassured  her 


THE  EMPEROR.  135 

spirits.  As  a  final 'preparation,  she  had  sprinkled  upon  her 
garments  a  few  drops  of  the  perfumery  her  father  used  before 
going  into  the  council;  and  charged  him  with  ordering  the 
servant  to  buy  the  promised  cakes  for  the  children.  The  little 
ones  had  gathered  about,  and  admired  her  with  an  "Ah!" 
and  an  "  Oh!"  as  an  awe-inspiring  presence  which  they  dared 
not  approach  or  touch.  On  account  of  the  arrangement  of  her 
hair,  she  could  not  bend  down  to  them  as  usual;  but  she 
stroked  the  curis  of  the  little  Helios,  and  said: 

"  To-morrow  we  will  ride  through  the  air;  and  perhaps 
afterward  Selene  will  tell  you  a  pretty  story." 

Her  heart  beat  faster  than  usual  when  she  stepped  into  the 
sedan  which  waited  for  her  before  the  dwellhig  of  the  gate- 
keeper. Mother  Doris  admired  her  without  showing  herself; 
but  as  Keraunus  stejoped  into  the  street  to  order  another  sedan 
for  himself,  she  cut  quickly  her  two  handsomest  roses,  and  run- 
ning out,  with  a  finger  on  her  laughing  lips,  put  them  into  the 
hand  of  the  girl. 

As  in  a  dream,  Arsinoe  reached  the  house  of  Tryphon  and 
the  theater;  and  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  learned  that  joy 
and  anxiety  can  reign  in  the  same  heart,  and  that  one  will  not 
exclude  the  other.  These  two  emotions  j)revented  her  from 
seeing  and  hearmg  what  passed  about  her.  Only  once  she  be- 
came conscious,  as  she  met  two  young  men  walking  arm  in 
arm,  and  crowned  with  wreaths,  that  they  cried  after  her: 

"  Long  live  beauty!" 

After  this  she  looked  down  into  her  lap,  and  upon  the  roses 
Doris  had  given  her.  The  flowers  reminded  her  of  the  son  of 
this  friendly  old  lady,  and  she  wondered  if  he  had  seen  her  in 
her  fine  array.  That  thought  was  pleasant,  and  not  at  all  im- 
possible, for  Pollux  would  naturally  be  there  often  while  at 
work  on  the  Lochias.  Perhaps  he  had  even  plucked  the  roses 
for  her,  and  dared  not  venture  to  bring  them  himself,  seeing 
her  father  so  near. 


CHAPTEE  XVIL 

The  young  sculptor  was  not  in  the  gate-keeper's  house  when 
Arsinoe  passed  by.  He  had  thought  of  her  often  enough  since 
their  meeting  before  the  bust  of  her  mother;  but  on  this  par- 
ticular afternoon  his  time  and  attention  were  occupied  by 
another  young  woman. 

Balbilla  had  gone  to  the  Lochias  about  noon,  accompanied 
by  the  worthy  Olaudia,  the  widow  of  a  poor  senator,  who  iov 


136  THE  EMPEROR. 

many  years  had  lived  as  lady  of  honor  and  companion  with  the 
rich  but  fatherless  and  motherless  orphan. 

In  Rome  she  presided  over  the  house  of  Balbilla  with  as 
much  efficiency  as  pleasure.  There  was  only  one  element  of 
discontent  in  her  lot,  and  this  came  from  Iklbilla's  love  of 
travel — which  forced  her  too  often  to  leave  the  chief  city — and 
outside  of  Kome  no  place  seemed  a  desirable  residence.  Going 
to  the  baths  at  Baiae,  or  to  the  Ligurian  coast  during  the  cold 
months  of  January  and  February,  was  not  unpleasant,  because, 
though  not  in  Jiome,  she  was  sure  of  IJoman  society.  But  the 
mad  desire  of  Balbilla  to  visit  Africa,  the  country  she  imagined 
to  be  a  glowing  furnace,  and  to  go  in  a  reeling  vessel,  had 
been  a  sore  trial  to  the  worthy  woman.  But  she  was  con- 
strained to  make  the  best  of  the  necessit}^,  for  the  emj^ress  had 
expressed  so  strong  a  wish  for  the  company  of  Balbilla  on  her 
trip  up  the  Kile,  that  the  refusal  of  Claudia  would  have  been 
an  act  of  disobedience.  Moreover,  she  was  forced  to  acknowl- 
edge to  herself  that  her  self-willed  foster-child — as  she  was  in 
the  habit  of  calling  Balbilla — would  have  insisted  on  making 
the  journey  without  the  urgency  of  Sabina. 

Balbilla  had  gone  to  the  palace  on  the  Lochias  to  sit  for  her 
bust.  When  Selene  passed  by  the  screen  which  hid  her  old 
playfellow  and  his  work  from  her  sight,  the  worthy  matron 
Claudia  had  fallen  asleej^  upon  her  couch,  and  the  sculptor 
was  trymg  to  prove  to  Balbilla  that  the  height  and  elaboration 
of  her  hair-dressing  injured  the  expression  of  her  features. 

He  begged  her  to  remember  how  simply  the  great  Athenian 
masters  of  sculi^ture  in  the  most  flourishing  days  of  the  plastic 
art  had  rejiresented  the  hair  in  their  statues,  and  proposed  to 
arrange  hers  in  the  same  manner,  if  she  Avould  come  to  him 
the  next  day,  before  the  maid  should  have  used  the  hot  iron 
upon  it,  for  to-day  the  curls  would  act  like  the  spring  of  a 
clasp  which  one  bends  out  of  its  place.  Balbilla  retorted  in 
a  lively  manner,  i:)rotesting  against  his  ideas,  and  maintaining 
her  preference  for  the  prevailing  mode. 

*' But  this  fashion  is  not  beautiful;  it  is  monstrous,  and 
offends  the  eye.  The  idle  Eoman  women  invented  it,  not  as 
any  addition  to  beauty,  but  simply  to  attract  attention,"  as- 
serted Pollux. 

"  To  attract  attention  by  any  outward  effect  is  unpleasant 
to  me,''  answered  Balbilla.  '*  But  one  is  less  consi^icuous 
who  follows  the  prevailing  fashion  in  dress — providing  that  it 
does  not  change  too  often — even  though  he  adojit  something 
in  itself  more  graceful  and  modest.  Which  do  you  consider 
the  more  idle,  the  stylish  young  man  on  the  Cano23ic  way,  or 


THE   EMPEKOE.  137 

the  cynical  jDhilosophers  with  their  tousled  hair,  the  torn  felt 
blanket  over  their  shoulder,  and  the  rough  stick  in  their  dirty 
hands  ?'^ 

"  The  latter/'  answered  Pollux;  "  but  they  sin  against  the 
laws  of  taste,  toward  which  I  wish  to  win  you,  and  which  will 
as  surely  survive  every  changing  shade  of  conventionalism  as 
Home|-'s  Iliad  is  destined  to  outlive  the  drawling  rhymes  of  the 
street  singers,  who  yesterday  filled  our  streets  with  descriptions 
of  a  murder.     Am  I  the  first  to  attempt  a  bust  of  yourself?' ' 

*'  No,"  laughed  Balbilla;  "  five  Roman  artists  have  already 
done  the  same  thing." 

"  Has  any  one  of  them  succeeded  to  your  satisfaction?" 

"  Every  one  proved  a  failure." 

"  Then  will  your  handsome  face  go  down  to  future  genera- 
tions in  fivefold  distortion?" 

"  Oh,  no;  I  had  them  all  broken  to  pieces." 

"  That  was  good  for  them,"  cried  Pollux,  and  turning  natu- 
rally toward  his  prospective  work,  apostroj)hized  it  thus: 

"  Poor  clay,  if  the  fair  lady  to  whom  you  may  bear  a  certain 
resemblance  does  not  dispense  with  the  chaos  of  her  curls, 
you  are  sure  to  share  the  fate  of  your  five  predecessors," 

The  matron,  awakened  by  these  words,  asked: 

"  Were  you  speaking  of  Balbilla's  broken  busts?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  j^oetess. 

"  Perhaps  this  may  follow  the  others,"  sighed  Claudia. 
"  Do  you  know  what  impends  over  you  in  this  attempt?" 

"  What  is  it?" 

"  This  young  woman  has  some  knowledge  of  your  art." 

"  I  have  learned  to  bungle  a  little  from  Aristeas,"  broke  in 
Balbilla. 

''Aha!  Since  the  emperor  introduced  it,  one  would  be 
quite  out  of  fashion  in  Eome  who  did  not  busy  himself  with 
sculpture." 

"  Perhaps  so." 

"  Finding  something  to  displease  her  in  each  bust,  she  has 
tried  to  improve  it." 

"  I  only  prepare  the  work  for  the  slaves,"  again  broke  in 
Balbilla.  ''  My  people  have  gradually  attained  to  skill  in  the 
work  of  destruction." 

"  My  work  has  at  least  the  prospect  of  a  speedy  end,"  sighed 
Pollux.  "  Verily,  all  things  come  into  this  world  under  sen- 
tence of  death." 

"  Would  such  a  destruction  of  your  labor  displease  you?" 
asked  Balbilla. 

"  Yes,  if  it  should  be  successful;  no,  in  case  of  failure." 


138  THE  EMPEROR. 

"  ""Whoever  preserves  a  poor  bust,'*  said  Balbilla,  "brings 
upon  himself  a  more  unfavorable  verdicb  from  posterity  than 
he  deserves. " 

"  Certainly;  but  how  can  you  have  courage  to  risk  for  the 
sixth  time  such  an  act  of  destruction?" 

"  Because  1  can  destroy  whatever  I  i)lease/'  said  the  spoiled 
girl,  laughing.     "  Sitting  still  is  not  my  vocation." 

"  Certainly  it  is  not/'  sighed  Claudia.  "  But  from  you  we 
expect  something  good. " 

^'  I  thank  you/'  returned  Pollux,  "  and  will  spare  no  pains 
to  answer  your  expectations  and  make  something  worthy  of 
preservation  in  marble." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  our  expectations?" 
[   Pollux  meditated  for  a  moment  before  replying: 

"  It  is  not  easy  for  me  to  exjDress  that  which  I  feel  as  an 
artist.  'A  plastic  image  that  can  satisfy  its  creator  must  ful- 
fill two  conditions :  it  should  carry  to  future  generations  a  like- 
ness of  the  person  represented,  and  also  give  some  evidence  of 
the  state  of  the  art  in  the  time  of  its  construction." 

"  That  sounds  well;  but  you  are  forgetting  yourself." 

"  Do  you  mean  my  own  fame?" 

"Certainly." 

"  I  work  for  Papias,  and  serve  art  in  general;  that  is  enough. 
Meanwhile,  Fame  neither  asks  for  me  nor  I  for  Fame." 

"  Yet  you  will  not  omit  to  place  your  name  on  my  bust?" 

"  Why  should  I  not?" 

"  Wise  Cicero!" 

"  Cicero?" 

"  You  do  not  seem  familiar  with  the  clever  remark  of  the 
old  Tullius  about  the  j^hilosophers  who  write  on  the  worthless- 
ness  of  fame,  yet  always  put  their  own  names  on  the  books?" 

"I  do  not  despise  the  laurel,  but  will  not  run  after  that 
whose  only  worth  is  that  it  comes  unsought  and  because  I  de- 
serve it." 

"  Good.  But  in  order  to  fulfill  your  first-named  condition 
you  need  to  be  acquainted  with  my  thoughts  and  feelings — my 
entire  inner  life." 

"  I  look  at  you,  and  speak  with  you/'  answered  Pollux. 

Claudia  laughed  aloud,  and  said: 

"  If  instead  of  two  interviews  of  two  hours  each,  you  had 
known  her  as  many  years,  there  would  still  be  more  to  dis- 
cover. Not  a  week  passes  in  which  she  does  not  exhibit  some- 
thing to  puzzle  Rome.  This  restless  head  is  never  still,  though 
the  golden  heart  be  always  and  everywhere  the  same." 

"  And  do  you  suppose  that  is  new  to  me?"  asked  Pollux. 


THE   EMPEKOR.  139 

*'  I  read  the  restless  spirit  of  my  model  upon  her  forehead  and 
her  mouth,  and  the  eyes  betray  her  disposition/^ 

"  And  my  pug-nose?''  asked  Balbilla. 

"  That  bears  witness  to  the  wonderfully  odd  and  merry 
ideas  which  astonish  Rome." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  not  yet  working  for  the  hammer  of  the 
slaves/'  returned  Balbilla,  laughing. 

"  And  if  I  were,  the  memory  of  this  pleasant  hour  could  not 
be  destroyed,"  returned  Pollux. 

Pontius  now  appeared,  begging  Balbilla  to  forgive  his  inter- 
ruption of  the  sitting.  The  opinion  of  Pollux  was  needed  in 
an  important  matter,  which  would  call  for  his  absence  only 
about  ten  minutes. 

So  soon  as  the  two  women  were  left  alone,  Balbilla  rose  and 
looked  curiously  around  the  narrow' workshop,  while  her  com- 
panion remarked: 

"  A  fine  young  man,  this  Pollux;  but  rather  too  free  and 
lively." 

"He  is  an  artist,"  answered  Balbilla,  turning  over  every 
picture  and  tablet  and  study  of  the  sculptor,  lifted  the  cover 
from  the  Urania,  touched  the  lute  which  hung  on  the  wall, 
ran  from  one  thing  to  another,  and  at  last  stopped  before  a 
great  mass  of  clay  covered  with  a  cloth  wliich  occupied  one 
corner. 

"  What  can  that  be?"  asked  Claudia. 

"  A  partly  finished  model,  without  doubt.'* 

Balbilla  touched  it  with  the  tips  of  her  fingers,  and  said: 

"  It  seems  to  be  a  head.  Perhaps  something  unusual.  The 
choicest  food  comes  often  under  the  covered  dishes.  Let  us 
unveil  this  statue. '' 

"  Who  knows  what  it  may  be?"  said  Claudia,  loosening  a 
cord  at  one  end  of  the  covering.  "  One  often  finds  choice 
things  in  these  workshojDS. " 

"It  is  only  a  human  head,"  cried  Balbilla.  "  I  can  feel 
it." 

"  But  one  can  not  be  sure,"  said  the  matron,  loosening  a 
knot.  "  These  artists  are  such  lawless,  unaccountable  peo- 
ple." 

"  Take  that  end,  I  will  lift  from  here,"  proposed  Balbilla; 
and  a  moment  later  the  poetess  stood  before  the  distorted 
caricature  of  a  Roman  woman  which  Hadrian  had  made. 

She  recognized  it  instantly,  and  at  first  laughed  aloud,  but 
the  longer  she  looked  the  more  vexed  and  angry  did  she  be- 
come. Knowing  her  own  features,  she  saw  that  this  made 
prominent  whatever  was  least  agreeable  in  bold  exaggeration. 


140  THE  EMPEROR. 

The  result  was  a  licad  ugly  ouougli  to  frighten  one,  and  yet 
bearing  a  resemblance  to  herself.  While  looking  at  it,  she  re- 
membered what  Pollux  had  lately  said  about  reading  her  char- 
acter in  her  face,  and  a  deep  indignation  rose  Avithin  her  soul. 
The  great  wealth  which  made  her  able  to  gratify  every  whim, 
and  turned  even  her  follies  into  subject  for  admiration,  had 
not  protected  her  from  a  disillusion  which  girls  in  a  more 
modest  sphere  of  life  were  spared.  Her  kindness  and  gener- 
osity were  often  made  occasion  of  trespass,  even  by  artists;  but 
it  was  certain  that  whoever  had  made  this  caricature  had  acted 
from  a  different  motive  than  the  gaining  of  a  high  price  for  a 
flattering  likeness. 

She  had  found  jileasure  ui  the  fresh  and  healthy  natme  of 
this  young  sculptor  and  his  respectful  address.  Still,  no  one 
here  was  so  likely  to  have  perceived  the  peculiarities  of  hernot 
strictly  handsome  face,  which,  though  really  leading  it  a 
charm,  still  were  to  be  recognized  in  this  caricature.  She  was 
indignant,  and.  felt  herself  insulted.  Always  accustomed  to 
express  her  displeasure,  she  cried  in  a  vehement  manner  and 
with  moist  eyes: 

"  That  is  disgraceful,  that  is  mean.  Give  me  the  mantle, 
Claudia.  I  will  not  remain  another  moment  as  a  target  for 
his  coarse  and  malicious  jesting.^' 

"It  is  most  unworthy  of  him  to  insult  a  woman  in  your 
position.     I  hope  the  sedan  waits  outside  the  gate."' 

Pontius,  coming  in,  heard  the  last  words.  Pollux  was  still 
detained  by  the  prefect.  As  the  architect  came  nearer,  he  said 
to  Balbilla: 

"  You  have  reason  to  be  indignant.  The  thing  is  an  insult 
in  clay,  ugly  in  every  feature,  but  Pollux  did  not  make  it.  ^' 

"  You  apologize  for  your  friend. " 

"  I  would  not  utter  an  untruth,  even  for  my  brother.'' 

*'  As  the  other  in  jest,  so  do  you  in  earnest  seek  to  give  it 
an  appearance  of  honorable  intention. " 

"You  are  irritated,  and  not  accustomed  to  bridle  your 
tongue,"  answered  the  architect.  "  Pollux,  I  repeat  it,  has 
not  made  this  caricature,  but  a  sculptor  from  Rome." 

"  AVho  is  it?     We  know  them  all." 

"  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  mention  his  name." 

"  There  it  is  again.     We  will  go,  Claudia." 

"  Stay  where  you  are,"  said  Pontius,  firmly.  "Were  you 
not  she  whom  you  are,  I  should  let  you  go  wherever  you  wish 
with  the  wrath"  and  the  double  guilt  upon  your  soul  of  injus- 
tice toward  two  upright  men.  lint  as  the  granddaughter  of 
Claudius  Jialbillus  1  consider  it  my  duty  to  say  this  to  you — 


THE    EMPEROR.  141 

had  Pollux  made  this  caricature  he  would  no  longer  be  in  this 
jialace,  for  I  should  have  thrust  him  out,  and  thrown  his 
wretched  performance  after  him.  You  look  surprised,  for 
you  know  not  who  I  am  to  speak  thus  to  you.^^ 

"  That  is  not  true,"  answered  Balbilla,  quietly;  for  she  was 
convinced  that  the  man  who  stood  before  her  like  a  bronze 
statue,  and  with  eyebrows  drawn  together,  told  the  truth,  and 
for  some  reason  had  the  right  to  sj^eak  so  decidedly  to  her. 
"  I  know  you  to  be  the  head  architect  of  this  city,  of  whom 
Titianus  has  related  great  things  to  us;  but  how  can  I  explain 
your  sjiecial  interest  in  me?" 

"It  is  my  duty  to  serve  you,  even  with  my  hfe,  should  that 
be  necessary.'-' 

"  You?"  asked  Balbilla,  bewildered.  "  I  saw  you  for  the 
first  time  yesterday. " 

"  Nevertheless,  you  have  a  right  to  dispose  of  all  I  am  or 
have,  for  my  grandfather  was  the  slave  of  yours. " 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  answered  Balbilla,  with  increasing 
embarrassment. 

"  Can  it  be  that  the  tutor  of  your  noble  grandfather,  and 
your  own  father,  the  old  Sophinus,  to  whom  Claudius  Balbillus 
gave  his  freedom,  is  entirely  forgotten  among  you?" 

"  Certainly,  most  certainly  not,"  cried  Balbilla.  "  He  must 
have  been  a  noble  man  and  a  fine  scholar." 

"  He  was  my  father's  father,"  said  Pontius. 

"  Then  you  belong  to  our  family,"  exclaimed  Balbilla,  ex- 
tending her  hand  joj^full}^ 

''  Thank  you  for  this  word,"  returned  Pontius;  "  and  now 
let  me  say  once  more,  Pollux  had  nothing  to  do  with  this 
caricature." 

"  Take  away  my  mantle,  Claudia;  I  shall  continue  the  sit- 
ting." 

"  Not  to-day;  it  would  only  injm-e  the  work.  I  pray  you, 
let  the  indignation,  to  which  you  gave  such  vehement  expres- 
sion, wear  off  in  some  other  direction.  The  sculptor  ought 
not  to  know  that  you  have  seen  the  caricature;  it  would  de- 
stroy his  freedom.  When  you  come  to-morrow,  with  a  refreshed 
soul  and  a  more  cheerful  humor,  Pollux  will  be  able  to  make 
an  image  of  you  that  should  satisfy  the  granddaughter  of 
Claudius  Balbillus." 

"  And  I  ho23e  also  the  grandson  of  his  wise  tutor,"  said  the 
girl,  kindly  saluting  Pontius  as  she  went  with  her  companion 
toward  the  door  of  the  hall,  where  some  slaves  awaited  them. 

Pojitius  accompanied  them  in  silence  to  their  escort,  and 
then,  returning  to  the  worlvshop,  carefully  covered  again  the 


143  THE   EMPEROR. 

caricature.  As  he  returned  to  the  hull,  Pollux  hastened  to- 
ward him,  saj'ing: 

"  The  architect  from  Rome  Avishes  to  s^ieak  with  you — a 
grand  man  he  is.'' 

"  Balbilla  was  called  away,  and  left  her  greeting  for  you. 
Take  that  thing  yonder  out  of  the  way,  that  she  may  not  see 
it.     It  is  rough  and  detestable. " 

In  a  few  moments  he  stood  before  the  emjieror,  who  made 
known  his  wish  to  watch  the  sitting  of  Balbilla. 

As  Pontius  related  to  him' what  had  occurred  behind  the 
screen,  begging  him  not  to  mention  the  matter  to  Pollux, 
and  told  him  of  her  indignation  at  sight  of  the  insulting 
caricature,  Hadrian  rubbed  his  hands  together,  laughing  aloud 
in  delight.     Pontius  ground  his  teeth  and  said: 

"  Balbilla  seemed  to  me  a  mirth-loving  but  noble-hearted 
woman.     I  can  see  no  reason  for  laughing  at  her.'' 

Hadrian  looked  sharj^ly  into  the  serious  eyes  of  the  bold 
arcliitect,  let  his  hand  rest  vq)o\\  his  shoulder,  and  said,  with  a 
shade  of  threatening  in  his  voice : 

"  To  do  that  in  my  presence  would  certainly  bring  you  or 
any  other  persons  into  trouble.  The  old  sometimes  venture 
to  amuse  themselves  with  things  which  the  children  are  not 
permitted  to  touch. " 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

Selene  reached  the  entrance-gate  through  the  immense  wall 
of  sunburned  bricks  which  inclosed  the  buildings,  reservoirs, 
and  courts  belonging  to  the  papyrus  mill  of  Plutarch,  in  which 
she  and  her  sister  worked  daily.  Usually  she  reached  this 
point  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour;  but  to-day  it  had  taken  four 
times  as  long,  and  she  had  scarcely  been  able,  on  account  of 
the  excruciating  pain,  to  keep  herself  upright  and  to  move  on- 
ward, limping  and  staggering. 

_  She  longed  to  cling  to  every  person  going  in  the  same  direc- 
tion, or  attach  herself  to  some  vehicle;  but  i)itiless  and  un- 
heeding, men  and  animals  alike  had  passed  on.  Some,  wnu 
were  i]i  haste,  knocked  against  her  and  scarcely  turned  as 
she  shrunk  more  closely  into  herself  with  a  groan,  or  sunk 
down  upon  the  nearest  curbstone  to  wipe  hcr  eyes  or  press  the 
swollen  foot,  by  a  naw  pain  to  divert  for  a  moment  the  steady, 
unendurable  agonv.  The  street  boys  who  had  cried  after  her 
gave  up  (heir  sport  when  they  saw  she  svas  determiiied  not  to 
notice  their  persecution. 

Once  as  she  was  sitting  upon  a  doorstep,  a  Avoman  with  a 


tHE  EMPEROR.  143 

cliild  in  her  arms  asked  what  was  the  matter,  but  went  on 
when  Selene  only  shook  her  head  in  reply.  And  she  was  very 
near  to  giving  up,  when  the  street  became  suddenly  filled  with  a 
curious  throng  to  watch  the  passage  of  Verus  in  his  chariot — 
and  what  a  chariot! 

The  Alexandrians  were  accustomed  to  see  much  that  was 
striking  and  peculiar  in  their  populous  city,  but  this  vehicle 
never  failed  to  attract  all  eyes,  whether  in  surprise,  admira- 
tion, or  bitter  sarcasm. 

In  the  midst  of  a  gilded  chariot  stood  the  handsome  Roman, 
guiding  the  four  white  horses  harnessed  abreast  with  his  own 
hand.  On  his  head  was  a  wreath,  and  across  his  breast  a  gar- 
land of  roses.  On  the  foot-board  sat  two  charming  children 
dressed  as  cupids.  Their  limbs  were  swinging  freely,  and 
white  doves,  fastened  to  their  hands  by  long  golden  wires,  flut- 
tered before  Verus.  The  hurrying  crowd  pressed  Selene 
agamst  the  wall,  who,  instead  of  looking  after  this  striking 
equipage,  only  (Covered  her  face  in  agony.  Still,  the  sliining 
chariot,  the  golden  harness,  and  the  figure  of  Verus  had  passed 
before  her  as  a  dream  picture.  And  the  dim  glance  had 
wakened  in  her  soul — half  paralyzed  by  pain  and  anxiety — 
only  the  thought  that  the  mere  bridle  of  this  spendthrift  had 
cost  enough  to  keep  their  family  from  Avant  a  whole  year.  As 
the  chariot  turned  into  the  next  street,  and  the  crowd  rushed 
after  it,  she  was  almost  thrown  to  the  ground.  She  could  not 
go  any  further,  and  only  looked  about  for  a  litter — but  not 
one  was  in  sight.  It  was  but  a  few  hundred  steps  further  to 
reach  the  mill,  but  it  seemed  to  her  a  distance  of  many  stadia. 

Then  a  few  workmen  came  out,  laughing  and  showing  their 
money  to  each  other.  So  she  knew  the  distribution  of  wages 
had  already  commenced.  And  a  glance  at  the  position  of  the 
sun  reminded  her  how  long  she  had  been  on  the  Avay,  and  of 
her  object  in  coming.  With  a  mighty  effort  of  will  she  limped 
a  few  steps  further,  and,  as  her  courage  began  again  to  yield, 
there  came  along  a  little  maiden  who  had  some  petty  service 
at  the  table  where  she  and  Arsinoe  worked,  but  who  now  car- 
ried a  pitcher.     She  called  to  the  little  brown  Egyptian: 

"  Please,  Hathor,  go  back  with  me  to  the  mill,  for  I  have 
such  pain  in  my  foot.  Perhaps,  leaning  on  your  shoulder,  I 
may  walk." 

''  I  can  not,"  cried  the  child.  "  If  I  hurry  back,  I  am  to 
get  some  dates!"  and  off  she  ran. 

Selene  looked  after  her  with  the  question,  not  for  the  first 
time  rising  in  her  heart,  why  she,  who  took  so  much  trouble 


144  THE   EMPEKOR. 

for  others,  found  so  little  help  in  return;  and  sighing,  tried 
again  to  go  on. 

After  a  few  stej^s,  and  the  pain  obscuring  the  senses  of  sight 
and  hearing,  a  voice  asked  timidly  but  kindly  what  was  the 
matter.  It  was  the  voice  of  a  leaf-paster,  whose  place  in  the 
mill  was  near  her  own — a  poor,  deformed  creature,  who  still 
was  cheerful  and  quiet  and  industrious,  and  had  often  rendered 
little  acts  of  kindness  to  Arsinoe  and  herself.  Now  she  offered 
her  crooked  shoulder  for  the  support  of  Selene,  and  regulated 
every  step  with  a  wonderful  appreciation  of  her  suffering. 
They  entered  the  mill  without  exchanging  a  word.  In  the 
outer  court  the  girl  made  Selene  rest  on  a  bundle  of  papyrus 
stalks,  which  were  in  great  piles  near  a  water-tank,  where  they 
were  freshened  for  arrangement  according  to  the  location  in 
which  they  had  grown.  Beyond  this  court,  the  halls  where 
these  three-sided  stalks  were  examined  and  stripped  of  their 
green  coverings,  and  the  pith  cut  into  finger-lengths  of  varied 
thickness,  seemed  to  grow  longer  as  they  proceeded,  and,  in- 
deed, to  stretch  on  without  end. 

The  pith-cleavers  usually  sat  on  both  sides  of  a  broad  passage 
used  by  the  slaves  wheii  they  carried  the  prepared  sheets  to  the 
drying-house — each  at  his  own  small  table;  but  to-day  the 
greater  part  of  these  peoj^le  had  left  their  places,  and  stood 
chatting,  or  packing  the  wooden  screws,  knives,  and  whet- 
stones together.  In  the  midst  of  this  hall  the  hand  of  Selene 
slipped  from  the  shoulder  of  her  companion,  and,  overtaken  by 
dizziness,  she  whispered: 

"  I  can  do  no  more.  ^' 

The  hunchback  held  her  up  as  well  as  she  could,  and  although 
not  strong,  succeeded  in  guitliug  her  to  an  empty  bench. 

A  few  work-2)eople  gathered  around  and  brought  water,  but 
when  she  opened  her  eyes  and  was  recognized  by  some  who 
worked  in  the  same  room  with  herself,  they  proposed  to  take 
lier  thither.  Without  asking  her  consent,  they  lifted  the  bench 
upon  which  she  was  lying,  "^riic  injured  foot,  hanging  down- 
ward, caused  such  exquisite  i)ain  that  she  screamed  and  tried 
to  draw  it  back,  extending  her  hand  to  grasp  her  ankle.  But 
her  companion  again  lent  her  help,  taking  the  suffering  foot 
into  her  own  hand,  and  supporting  it  with  tender  carefulness. 

In  the  large  room  where  both  men  and  women  were  fasten- 
ing the  dried  strips  of  papyrus  together  into  sheets,  she  was 
able  to  draw  the  veil  closer  about  her  head.  Arsinoe  and  she, 
in  order  to  remain  unknown,  had  always  drawn  their  veils 
closely  in  passing  here,  and  only  laid  them  aside  in  the  small 
room  where  some  twenty  other  women  were  at  work.     Now 


IHE  EMPEROE.  145 

all  eyes  rested  inquisitively  upon  her,  carried  as  if  in  triumph, 
but  she  seemed  to  herself  like  a  criminal  borne  through  the 
streets  in  disgrace  before  the  eyes  of  the  citizens.  Certainly 
the  foot  gave  her  much  pain,  and  she  was  indeed  wretched; 
yet  the  beggarly  pride  inherited  from  her  father,  and  the  hu- 
miliating consciousness  of  being  classed  with  common  people, 
was  one  large  element  of  her  misery.  In  their  own  work-room 
were  only  free  women,  but  more  than  a  thousand  slaves  were 
occupied  in  this  establishment,  and  she  would  as  soon  have 
eaten  from  the  same  dish  with  animals  as  to  be  classed  with 
these  people. 

At  one  time,  when  almost  everything  was  needed  in  their 
house,  her  father  had  directed  her  attention  to  this  factory,  by 
relating  indignantly  how  the  daughter  of  a  citizen  had  hu- 
miliated herself  and  her  whole  class  by  working  there  to  earn 
money.  It  was  true  she  had  been  well  paid,  and  in  answer  to 
Selene's  question,  he  had  mentioned  the  amount  she  received 
and  the  name  of  the  manufacturer  who  had  so  bought  her 
honor  with  his  gold. 

Soon  after  this  she  went  to  the  factory  and  made  all  the 
necessary  arrangements  for  herself  and  Arsinoe  to  go  for  a 
few  hours  each  day,  and  take  their  places  among  those  who 
gummed  the  finished  strips  of  papyrus  together.  This  was 
two  years  ago,  but  how  often  had  Arsinoe,  at  the  beginning  of 
a  new  week  or  when  special  repugnance  to  the  work  gained 
power  over  her  soul,  refused  to  go  any  more  to  the  factory. 
And  how  much  jjersuasion  she  had  been  forced  to  use — how 
many  new  ribbons  she  had  bought,  how  often  consented  to 
take  share  in  some  amusement  which  cost  the  half  of  a  week's 
wages  to  prevail  on  Arsinoe  to  remain,  and  to  prevent  her 
making  known  to  her  father  the  occasion  of  their  so-called 
walk  for  pleasure. 

As  Salene  once  more  sat  on  her  stool  before  the  long  table 
on  which  lay  hundreds  of  the  jjrepared  leaves  of  jDapyrus  wait- 
ing to  be  fastened  together,  she  felt  scarcely  able  to  lift  the  veil 
from  her  face.  She  drew  the  upper  sheets  toward  herself, 
dipped  her  brush  in  the  vessel  of  gum,  and  began  to  spread  it 
on  the  edge  of  the  leaves,  but  in  the  midst  of  the  task  her 
strength  failed  and  the  light  imj)lement  fell  from  her  fingers. 
She  laid  her  hands  on  the  table,  and  burying  her  face  within 
them,  began  to  weep. 

While  the  tears  ran  down  through  her  fingers,  and  shiver 
after  shiver  shook  her  frame,  a  woman  who  sat  opposite  had 
called  the  hunchback  to  herself,  and  after  whispering  a  few 


146  THE  EMPEROR. 

words,  Ihid  pressed  her  liand  warmly,  and  looked  with  confi- 
dence into  her  lusterless  hut  clear,  friendly  eyes. 

Thereupon  the  girl  seated  herself  silently  heside  Selene,  in 
the  empt}'  place  of  Arsinoe,  and  pushed  the  smaller  part  of  the 
papyrus  toward  the  woman  opposite,  and  both  began  to  work 
diligently  at  the  gumming. 

For  some  time  they  had  continued,  when  Selene  raised  her 
head  and  tried  again  to  use  the  brush.  Seeing  the  girl  beside 
her,  for  whose  former  assistance  she  had  scarcely  shown  any 
gratitude,  diligently  at  work  hi  Arsinoe's  place,  she  said,  in  a 
tone  that  expressed  rather  surprise  than  friendliness: 

'*  That  is  my  sister's  place.  You  can  keep  it  to-day,  but 
when  the  factory  opens  again  she  must  sit  by  me. " 

"1  know,  I  know,''  answered  the  girl,  timidly;  "  I  am  only 
finishing  your  portion,  for  I  have  nothing  more  to  do,  and  you 
are  suffering." 

Kindness  was  so  strange  a  thing  in  Selene's  experience  that 
she  misunderstood  her  neighbor,  and  said,  shrugging  her 
shoulders: 

"  Serve  yourself  on  our  account  all  you  please  to-day.  I 
can  not  do  any  thing. " 

The  deformed  girl  blushed,  and  looked  at  the  woman  oppo- 
site hesitatingly,  who  laid  down  her  own  brush,  and  said,  turn- 
ing to  Selene : 

"  Maria  does  not  mean  it  so,  dear  child.  She  has  under- 
taken one  half  of  your  day's  work,  and  I  the  other,  that  you 
may  not  fail  of  the  wages  through  your  suffering." 

"  Do  I  look  so  very  poor?"  asked  the  daughter  of  Keraunus, 
a  flush  coming  into  her  pale  face. 

"Certainly  not,  child,"  answered  the  woman.  "Un- 
doubtedly you  and  your  sister  come  from  a  good  house,  but 
please  allow  us  the  jDleasure  of  helping  you." 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  stammered  Selene. 

"  If  you  were  to  notice  that  it  hurt  me  to  bend  over,  and 
the  wind  had  blown  these  leaves  from  the  table,  would  you 
not  gladly  have  gathered  them  up  for  me.^"  asked  the  woman. 
"  AVhat  we  are  doing  for  you  is  nothing  more  or  less  than 
that.  We  shall  be  through  in  a  few  moments,  and  then  can 
follow  the  others  who  have  already  gone.  As  your  overseer, 
you  know  I  must  remain  any  way  till  you  all  leave  the  work- 
room. " 

Selene  felt  that  she  ought  to  be  grateful  to  both  these  wom- 
en for  their  kindness,  ancl  yet  it  would  seem  to  her  like  accept- 
ing a  charity.  Therefore  she  answered,  her  cheeks  agam 
flushhig: 


THE   EMPEROR.  147 

*'  I  am  very  grateful  for  your  kindness — very  grateful — but 
here  every  one  works  for  himself,  and  it  would  not  be  proper 
for  me  to  accept  from  you  what  you  have  earned. " 

She  had  spoken  these  words  with  haughtiness  and  not  frank 
decision;  but  they  did  not  disturb  the  quiet  composure  of  the 
woman,  who  was  known  among  the  work-people  as  ''  Widow 
Hannah/'  and  now,  resting  her  large,  friendly  eyes  on  Selene, 
answered : 

''  We  have  gladly  done  the  work  for  you,  dear  daughter, 
and  a  Divine  Teacher  has  taught  us  it  is  more  blessed  to  give 
than  to  receive.  Do  you  understand  the  meaning  of  these 
words?  It  certainly  makes  kind-hearted  people  much  hapj^ier 
to  show  themselves  useful  to  others  than  to  receive  good  gifts. 
■You  have  just  said  you  are  grateful  to  us.  Will  you  then  de- 
stroy our  i^leasure?" 

"  I  do  not  quite  comiDrehend, "  answered  Selene. 

"  Is  that  so?^"  interru23ted  Widow  Hannah.  "  Then  try  for 
once  to  show  yourself  willing  to  accejjt  hearty  good-will,  and 
you  will  learn  how  good  it  is,  how  it  expands  the  breast,  and 
changes  trouble  into  delight.  Is  it  not  true,  Maria,  that  we 
shall  thank  Selene  for  the  opportunity  of  using  our  hands  for 
her?'' 

"  I  have  been  glad  to  do  it,"  answered  the  hunchback; 
"  and  now  all  is  finished, " 

"  And  mine  also,"  added  the  widow,  pressing  the  last  strip 
with  a  cloth,  and  placing  her  own  share  beside  that  Maria  had 
prepared. 

"  I  thank  you  much,"  murmured  Selene,  with  downcast 
eyes,  and  rose  from  her  seat.  But  trying  to  step  with  the  in- 
jured foot  caused  such  pain  that  with  a  cry  she  sunk  back 
again.  The  widow  hastened  to  her  side,  and  taking  the 
swollen  foot  with  her  small  and  handsome  hands,  looked  at- 
tentively at  it,  and  exclaimed : 

"  Oh,  my  Saviour!  Is  it  possible  that  she  has  come  through 
the  streets  with  such  a  foot!"  and  turning  to  her  face,  said: 
"  Poor  child!  you  are  indeed  suffering.  How  the  rim  of  the 
sandal  presses  into  the  swollen  flesh!  It  is  dreadful.  Do  you 
live  far  from  here?" 

"  I  can  re»/^i>  i^— -  ,-,,  j-^^lf  an  hour." 

"Impossiuie;  Let  ino  fii'st  learn  from  my  tablets  what  is 
due  to  you,  and  I  will  fetch  it  from  the  pay-master.  Then  we 
will  see  what  can  be  done  for  you.  Meanwhile,  dear  daugh- 
ter, stay  where  you  are;  and,  Maria,  place  a  stool  under  her 
feet,  and  carefully  loosen  the  straps  from  her  ankle.     Do  Jt^*^ 


148  THE   EMPEROR. 

fear,  dear  child,  she  has  soft  hands  that  are  accustomed  to 

nursing." 

With  these  words  she  rose  and  kissed  the  forehead  and  eyes 
of  the  sufferer;  but  Selene  held  her  fast,  and  said,  with  moist 
eves  and  a  pathetic  tremor  in  her  voice,  ' '  Hannah,  dear  Han- 
nah!" 

As  the  traveler,  on  a  warm  October  day,  is  reminded  of  the 
departed  summer,  so  did  the  presence  ancl  the  kindness  of  this 
widow  call  up  in  the  heart  of  Selene  memories  of  lier  dear  lost 
mother.  Something  sweet  pervaded  all  the  bitterness  of  her 
pain.  So  she  nodded  thankfully  and  kept  her  scat,  for  it  was 
good  to  obey  once  more,  and,  like  a  child,  feel  herself  the  ob- 
ject of  kindness  and  care. 

As  the  widow  Avent  away,  Maria  knelt  down  to  loosen  the 
thongs  of  her  sandals,  which  had  become  almost  buried  in  the 
swollen  muscles.  She  did  it  with  great  care,  but  the  mere 
touch  of  her  fingers  caused  Selene  to  groan  and  sink  again  into 
a  swoon.  Maria  brought  water  and  bathed  her  forehead,  and 
cooled  the  wound,  and  when  she  again  ojDcned  her  eyes  and  saw 
the  widow  standing  at  her  side,  she  asked,  with  a  smile : 

"  Have  I  been  asleep?" 

"  Your  eyes  were  closed,  dear  child,"  was  the  answer. 
"  Here,  I  have  the  wages  of  twelve  days,  for  yourself  and 
your  sister.  Do  not  move;  I  will  put  it  in  your  pocket.  The 
l^hysician  belonging  to  the  factory  will  come  directly,  and  he 
will  arrange  for  the  comfort  of  your  feet,  and  the  chief  over- 
seer Avill  order  a  litter  to  take  you  home.  Where  do  vou 
live?" 

'' We?"  asked  Selene,  frightened.  "'No,  no,  I  will  Avalk 
home." 

"  But,  dear  child^  you  could  not  even  reach  the  court  iniless 
we  should  both  helj^  you. " 

"  Then  let  me  call  a  sedan  upon  the  street.  My  father — no 
one  must  know — I  am  not  able  to  tell  you." 

The  widow  motioned  to  Maria  to  go  out;  and  after  the  door 
was  closed,  took  a  seat  beside  Selene,  saying : 

"  Xow,  my  dear  girl,  we  are  alone.  I  am  not  a  babbler, 
and  certainly  could  not  betray  your  confidence.  Tell  me  with- 
out agitating  yourself  where  you  belong.  Do  you  not  believe 
that  I  mean  well  by  you?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Selene,  looking  irp  into  a  face  that,  in  its 
setting  of  soft  brown  hair,  bore  the  stamp  of  hearty  kindness 
upon  every  feature.  "  Yes.  You  remind  me  very  much  of 
my  mother." 

''  J  might  also  be  your  mother,"  answered  Hannah. 


THE   EMPEROR.  149 

"  I  am  already  nineteen  years  old." 

"  So  old?'^  answered  Hannah,  smiling.  "  My  life  has  been 
twice  as  long  as  yours.  I  had  one  child,  a  son,  who  was  taken 
from  me  while  he  was  very  young.  He  would  have  been  one 
year  older  than  you  are.     Have  you  a  mother?" 

"  No,"  answered  Selene,  with  the  old  bitterness  in  her 
tone.  "The  gods  have  torn  her  from  us.  She  would  have 
been  like  you,  not  yet  forty;  and  she  was  beautiful  and  kind, 
as  you  are.  She  left  seven  other  children  besides  myself,  and 
one  of  them  is  blind.  I  am  the  eldest,  and  do  what  I  can  that 
they  may  not  come  to  want." 

"  God  will  help  you  in  this  good  work." 

"  The  gods!"  cried  Selene,  bitterly.  "  They  let  them  grow 
up.     I  look  out  for  all  the  rest.     Oh,  my  foot!  my  foot!" 

"  We  must  think  of  that  now  first  of  all.  Have  you  still  a 
father?" 

"Yes." 

"  And  you  are  not  willing  he  should  know  that  you  work 
here?" 

Selene  shook  her  head  for  answer. 

"  Is  he  poor,  but  of  noble  origin?" 

"Yes." 

"  I  think  the  physician  is  coming.  Now,  then,  will  you  not 
let  me  know  the  name  of  your  father?  It  will  be  quite  neces- 
sary in  sending  you  home." 

"  I  am  the  daughter  of  the  palace  overseer,  Keraunus,  and 
our  dwelling  is  on  the  Lochias,'^  answered  Selene,  with  sud- 
den decision,  but  in  a  whisper  that  the  old  man  coming  in  at 
the  door  might  not  hear.  "  No  one,  and  least  of  all  my  fa- 
ther, must  know  what  we  do  here." 

The  widow  nodded  quietly,  and  turned  to  greet  the  phys- 
ician, who  now  entered  with  an  assistant.  Hannah  led  him  to 
the  sick  girl,  whose  forehead  she  cooled  with  a  wet  cloth,  and 
whom  she  supported  on  her  own  arm,  kissing  her  cheek  when 
the  pain  threatened  to  overcome  her  strength  again  during 
the  examination  of  the  foot  and  the  cutting  away  of  the 
leather  thong,  which  Maria  had  attemj^ted  in  vain  to  loosen. 
Groans  and  sharp  cries  proved  the  severity  of  her  pain. 

As  at  last  the  foot  was  free  from  the  bands,  and  the  physician 
had  learned  the  extent  of  the  injury,  he  exclaimed  to  his  assist- 
ant, "  Look  here,  Hippolytes,  the  girl  has  come  over  the  streets 
on  this  thing!  If  any  one  else  had  told  me  so,  I  should  have 
told  him  to  keep  the  lies  to  himself.  The  fibula  is  broken  at 
the  joint,  and  with  this  broken  limb  the  child  has  walked 
further  than  I  Avould  ever  trust  myself  without  a  litter. 


150  THE   EMPEROR. 

Zounds!  girl,  if  j'ou  lire  not  lamed  for  life  it  will  be  a  won- 
der!" 

Selene  listened  with  closed  eyes  and  in  great  weariness. 
With  the  last  words  she  writhed  a  little  and  drew  up  her  lip 
scornfully. 

*'  Do  you  care  nothing  for  the  limping?"  asked  the  phys- 
ician, whose  sharp  eyes  saw  everything.  "  That  is  your  affair, 
but  it  is  mine  to  see  that  you  do  not  go  out  of  my  hands  a 
cripple.  Such  an  opportunity  is  not  offered  me  every  day; 
and,  happily,  you  have  one  excellent  helper  on  your  side;  I 
mean  your  fresh,  youthful  vigor.  That  hole  in  the  head  is 
hotter  than  is  desirable.  Cool  it  faithfully  with  fresh  water. 
Where  do  you  live,  girl?" 

''  Almost  half  an  hour's  distance,"  said  Hannah,  in  her 
name. 

"  She  must  not  go  so  far,  even  in  a  litter,"  answered  the 
l^hysician. 

''  I  must  go  home,"  cried  Selene,  decidedly,  trying  to  rise. 

"  Nonsense!"  ejaculated  the  physician.  "  I  forbid  it.  Lie 
still,  be  patient  and  obedient,  and  this  bad  affair  may  end 
happily.  The  fever  has  already  set  in,  and  it  will  increase 
with  the  evening.  That  is  not  caused  by  the  leg,  but  by  the 
wound  in  the  head.  Do  you  think  we  could  arrange  a  bed 
here,"  he  continued,  turning  to  Hannah,  "  where  she  might 
lie  still  until  work  begins  again  hi  the  factory?" 

"  I  woidd  rather  perish!"  cried  Selene,  trying  to  draw  her 
foot  away  from  the  doctor. 

"  Only  be  quiet,  dear  child,"  begged  the  widow,  soothingly. 
*'  I  know  what  we  can  do.  My  house  stands  in  the  garden  of 
Paulina,  the  widow  of  Pudens,  very  near  here,  on  the  sea-shore 
— scarcely  a  thousand  steps  away — and  she  can  have  a  soft  bed 
and  good  nursing  there.  A  comfortable  litter  stands  ready, 
and  I  ought — " 

"That  is  quite  a  distance,"  answered  the  doctor.  "But 
really  nowhere  could  one  be  better  nursed.  So  we  will  try  it, 
and  I  will  go  with  her  to  beat  the  cursed  legs  of  the  bearers  if 
they  do  not  kee])  step. " 

(Selene  did  not  oppose  this  arrangement,  and  took  the  sooth- 
ing drink  the  doctor  had  pri'pai-eil,  but  she  shed  some  tears 
when  placed  in  the  litter,  with  her  foot  suj)ported  on  pillows. 
She  was  only  half  conscious  of  being  borne  through  the  streets, 
for  the  voice  of  the  physician  exhorting  her  bearers  to  be  care- 
ful, and  the  passing  by  of  people,  horses,  and  vehicles,  seemed 
like  the  incidents  of  a  dream.  She  also  noticed  that  they  car- 
ried her  through  a  garden,  and  was  at  last  dimly  conscious  of 


ISE  EMPESOR.  151 

being  laid  on  a  bed.  Beyond  that  all  was  a  dream-like  vague- 
ness, but  a  twitching  of  the  features  and  quick  movement  of 
the  hand  toward  tlie  wound  upon  her  head  testified  that  con- 
sciousness was  not  wholly  obscured. 

Hannah  sat  beside  her  bed,  and  followed  strictly  the  orders 
of  the  physician,  who  did  not  leave  until  fully  satisfied  with  all 
arrangements  for  Selene's  comfort.  Maria  was  near,  assisting 
the  widow  to  moisten  the  comjiresses  and  prepare  the  band- 
ages of  old  linen. 

When  Selene  breathed  more  quietly,  Hannah  beckoned  to 
Maria,  and  asked,  in  a  whisper: 

"  Can  you  stay  here  until  morning?  We  must  assist  each 
other,  for  there  will  be  many  nights  of  watching.  How  hot 
the  wound  is!" 

"  Yes,  if  I  go  first  to  my  mother,  for  she  would  else  be  anx- 
ious.'' 

"  Good;  and  you  will  perhaps  undertake  another  errand, 
for  I  can  not  leave  this  j)Oor  child  at  jjresent." 

"  Her  family  will  be  anxious." 

"  I  want  to  have  you  go  to  them;  but  no  one  besides  our- 
selves must  know  who  she  is.  Ask  for  Selene's  sister,  and  tell 
her  what  has  hai^pened.  If  you  should  see  the  father  tell  him 
I  will  nurse  his  daughter,  for  the  p)hysician  strictly  forbade 
her  to  go  or  to  be  carried  home.  He  must  not  know  that 
Selene  belongs  to  our  work-people,  and  do  not  allude  to  the 
factory  in  liis  presence.  If  you  find  neither  Arsinoe  nor  her 
father  at  home,  simply  say  to  whoever  opens  the  door  that  the 
sick  girl  is  with  me,  and  that  I  will  ghidly  nurse  her.  Of  our 
workshojD,  remember,  nothing  must  be  said.  One  thing  more : 
the  poor  girl  certainly  would  not  have  gone  there  to-day  un- 
less the  family  had  been  in  need  of  the  wages.  Give  them 
these  drachmas,  and  say,  which  is  true,  that  we  found  them 
on  her  person." 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Plutaech,  one  of  the  richest  citizens  of  Alexandria,  and 
who  owned  the  papyrus  mill  in  which  Selene  and  Arsinoe  were 
emi^loyed,  had  oii'ered  to  provide  a  "  suitable  "  reception  for 
the  wives  and  daughters  of  his  fellow-citizens  in  one  of  the 
smallest  theaters  of  the  city.  Whoever  knew  him,  understood 
that  "  suitable,"  according  to  his  ideas,  meant  something 
magnificent. 

The  daughter  of  the  ship-builder  had  prepared  Arsinoe  to 
see  great  things,  but  even  at  the  entrance  her  expectation* 


153  THE   EMPEROR, 

were  more  than  realized;  for,  as  her  father  mentioned  his 
name  and  her  own,  one  boy  handed  lier  a  beautiful  bunch  of 
flowers  out  of  a  great  basket  of  such;  and  another,  seated  on 
a  dolphin,  init  into  her  hand,  as  a  card  of  admission,  a  tiny 
plate  of  carved  ivor}^,  set  m  gold,  arranged  to  be  worn  as  a 
clasp  for  the  pephmi.  At  each  door,  all  who  entered  received 
similar  gifts.  The  passages  leading  to  the  auditorium  were 
filled  with  fragrant  perfimie,  and  Arsinoe,  who  had  been  here 
before,  scarcely  recognized  the  place,  so  riclily  was  it  orna- 
mented with  flowers  and  drajiery. 

And  who  had  ever  seen  women  and  girls  seated  in  the  best 
places,  as  was  the  case  to-day?  Indeed,  it  was  only  on  very 
rare  occasions  that  the  daughters  of  citizens  were  permitted  to 
witness  a  spectacle. 

Smiling,  as  to  an  old  acquaintance  one  has  outgrown,  she 
looked  up  to  the  highest  and  cheapest  tier  of  benches  in  this 
half-circular  space,  where  alone  she  had  been  able  to  afl'ord  a 
place,  and  had  known  the  emotions  of  mirth,  fear,  sympathy, 
in  spite  of  the  wind  that  was  never  at  rest  up  there  under  the 
free,  overarching  sky.  In  the  summer-time  it  was  worse,  for 
then  a  sail  was  spread  upon  the  side  where  the  sun  shone. 
This  was  made  of  strong  cloth,  and  when  it  was  moved  by 
means  of  rings  by  which  it  hung  the  creaking  Avas  painful  to 
the  ears,  and  sometimes  one  had  to  turn  the  head  to  avoid  be- 
ing struck  by  the  heavy  cords,  or  by  the  sail  itself. 

But  Arsinoe  recalled  it  all  to-day,  only  as  a  butterfly  remem- 
bers the  chrysalis  case  it  has  broken  through  and  left  behind. 
Glowing  with  happy  excitement,  she  and  her  companion  were 
led  to  their  seats.  She  knew  that  many  eyes  followed  her, 
but  that  only  increased  her  delight,  for  she  Avas  conscious  of 
looking  well,  and  enjoyed  attention.  To-day  at  least!  For 
those  Avho  noticed  her  Avere  the  first  people  of  the  city.  There 
they  stood  upon  the  stage,  and  among  them  Avas  her  good 
friend  I'ollux,  Avho  AA'aved  his  hand  toAvard  her.  She  could  not 
keep  her  feet  still,  but  crossed  her  arms,  not  to  shoAv  her  ex- 
citement. 

The  distribution  of  parts  had  already  begmi,  since,  in  wait- 
ing for  Selene,  they  Avere  half  an  hour  late. 

As  soon  as  she  perceived  that  the  eyes  draAvn  upon  her  as 
she  entered  were  turned  hi  other  directions,  she  looked  about. 
She  was  surrounded  by  women  and  girls  Avho  Avere  to  have  a 
share  in  the  represcjitation,  and  their  place  in  the  building  Avas 
separated  from  the  stage  only  l^y  the  orchestra,  which  they 
reuched  by  the  help  of  a  fcAV  steps,  usually  devoted  to  the 
choir. 


THE  EMPEROR.  153 

Behind  Arsinoe,  in  wide-reaching  circles,  sat  the  fathers, 
mothers  and  husbands  of  those  who  were  to  take  part  in  the 
proceedings;  and  among  these  was  Keraunus,  in  his  crocus- 
colored  pallium,  and  a  goodly  array  of  mirth-loving  matrons 
and  elderly  citizens,  whom  Plutarch  had  specially  invited. 
Among  the  girls,  Arsinoe  saw  many  whose  beauty  gave  her 
pleasure,  but  she  had  no  feeling  of  envy,  and  did  not  think 
of  comparing  herself  with  them.  She  knew  very  well  that 
she  was  j^retty,  and  had  no  need  to  hide  herself;  and  that  was 
enough.  There  was  something  intoxicating  in  the  continuous 
murmur  of  voices  and  the  fine  fragrance  rising  from  the  altar 
in  the  orchestra.  There  was  nothing  to  disturb  her  observa- 
tions, for  her  comijaniou  had  found  friends  with  whom  she  was 
chatting  and  laughing. 

Arsinoe  fixed  her  attention  upon  the  stage,  joartly  perhaps 
for  the  sake  of  Pollux,  who,  according  to  the  wish  of  the  Pre- 
fect Titian  us,  and  in  sjDite  of  the  remonstrance  of  his  master 
Papias,  had  been  placed  among  the  artists  arranging  the  fes- 
tival. More  than  once  she  had  seen  the  afternoon  sun  shining 
as  brightly  in  this  theater,  and  the  blue  heavens  arching  as 
cloudlessly  above  the  open  space;  but  how  different  was  the 
high  jolatform  behind  the  orchestra! 

The  joillared  front  was  of  variegated  marble,  and  the  back- 
ground represented  the  same  gilded  joalace  as  before;  but  to- 
day garlands  of  fresh  and  fragrant  flowers  festooned  the 
columns. 

The  first  artists  of  the  city  moved  about  with  tablets  and 
jDencils  in  their  hands  among  some  fifty  women  and  girls; 
while  Plutarch  himself  and  the  gentlemen  surrounding  him 
rejiresented  a  stately  choir,  sometimes  standing  together,  and 
sometimes  separated. 

Upon  the  right  side  of  the  stage  were  three  purple  couches. 

0]ie  of  them  was  occupied  by  the  Prefect  Titianus — who  also 
held  tablet  and  pencil — and  liis  wife  Julia. 

Verus  lay  extended  upon  another,  crowned,  as  usual,  with 
roses.     The  third  was  arranged  for  Plutarch. 

The  prefect  spoke  unrestrainedly  with  all,  as  if  he  were  the 
host,  and  often  his  remarks  were  applauded,  or  created  uni- 
versal laughter. 

The  figure  of  the  wealthy  Plutarch — which  once  seen  was 
never  to  be  forgotten — was  not  new  to  Arsinoe,  for  a  few  days 
before  he  had  visited  the  factory  in  company  with  an  architect 
to  consider  how  the  building  should  be  arranged  for  tlie  re- 
ception of  the  emperor.  In  their  work-room  he  had  stopped 
to  pinch  the  cheeks  of  Arsinoe  with  some  flattering  words. 


154  THE  EMPEROR. 

And  there  he  waddled  upon  the  stage!  He  was  said  to  be  an 
old  man  of  almost  seventy;  was  lame,  but  his  limbs  were  in 
constant,  involuntary  motion,  and  his  immensely  corpulent 
body  was  supported  by  two  stately  youths. 

His  well-sha]3ed  head  must  have  been  unusually  handsome 
in  younger  days.  Now  he  wore  a  wig  of  long  brown  curls; 
his  eyebrows  and  lashes  were  colored,  his  cheeks  jjainted  with 
white  and  rose  color,  which  gave  his  features  the  expression  of 
having  been  stiffened  while  smiling.  He  wore  a  wreath  of 
strange  flowers  upon  liis  head  that  resembled  clusters  of  grapes. 

Full-blown  red  and  white  roses  peeped  from  the  breast  folds 
of  his  ample  toga,  and  were  held  by  golden  clasps  in  which 
precious  stones  sparkled.  The  border  of  liis  mantle  was  thickly 
set  with  rosebuds,  each  one  fastened  watli  an  emerald  gleam- 
ing like  so  many  beetles.  The  youths  who  sujiported  him 
seemed  a  joart  of  his  own  person.  He  treated  them  as  if  they 
were  crutches,  and  they  appeared  to  need  no  directions  to 
know  exactly  what  he  wanted,  when  he  Avished  to  stop,  when 
to  move  forward.  From  a  distance  his  face  looked  like  that 
of  a  youth,  but  a  nearer  view  made  it  seem  like  a  head  of 
plaster  with  automatic  eyes. 

The  sophist,  Favorinus,  declared  one  would  weep  over  liim, 
as  a  corpse  moved  automatically,  if  he  were  not  forced  to  laugh 
instead;  and  he  himself  had  been  heard  to  say  that  he  strove 
by  every  means  to  hold  on  to  his  faithless  youth. 

On  account  of  his  liviug  crutches  the  Alexandrians  called 
him  the  six-legged  Adonis.     Hearing  this  nickname,  he  said : 

"  I  should  rather  they  would  call  me  the  six-handed;"  and 
in  truth  he  was  of  exceedingly  kind  heart,  very  generous  and 
benevolent,  cared  for  his  work-jjeople  like  a  father, _  kept  his 
slaves  well,  made  his  f reedmen  rich,  and  from  time  to  time 
spent  large  sums  in  providing  grain  for  the  people. 

Arsinoe  looked  compassionately  upon  the  poor  old  man, 
who,  with  all  his  skill  and  all  his  gold,  could  neither  keep  or 
buy  back  his  own  lost  youth.  In  tlie  meager  person  who 
spoke  often  with  Plutarch,  Arsinoe  recognized  the  relic  dealer, 
Gabinius,  to  whom  her  father  had  shown  the  door  when  he 
tried  to  buy  the  mosaic  from  their  family  room. 

The  conversation  was  interrupted,  for  the  distribution  of 
parts  in  the  group  representing  "  Alexander's  entrance  into 
Babylon  "  was  complete.  About  fifty,  women  and  girls  were 
dismissed  from  the  stage,  and  descended  to  the  orchestra. 

The  Exegete,  the  highest  functionary  of  the  city,  came  for- 
ward to  receive  a  new  hst  from  the  hand  of  Papias.     After 


THE    EMPEROR.  155 

rapidly  glancing  over  it,  he  passed  it  to  the  herald,  who  cried 
in  the  ears  of  the  assembly: 

"  In  the  name  of  the  high  Exegete,  I  beg  the  attention  of 
the  wives  and  daughters  of  the  Macedonian  and  Eoman  citi- 
zens. We  now  come  to  a  new  scene  in  our  representation  of 
the  important  events  in  the  life  of  the  great  Macedonian — 
'Alexander's  marriage  with  Eoxana/  and  I  request  those 
chosen  to  represent  it  to  come  forward  to  the  stage.'' 

And  in  a  far-sounding  voice  he  read  a  long  list  of  names. 
While  thus  occupied,  every  other  sound  in  the  great  auditorium 
suddenly  ceased. 

Also  on  the  stage  all  were  silent,  except  when  Verus  whis- 
pered a  few  words  to  Titianus,  or  Gabinius  sought  nervously 
to  impress  some  long  sentence  into  the  ear  of  Plutarch,  who 
answered  him  with  a  nod  or  movement  of  the  hands. 

Arsinoe  listened  with  repressed  breath  and  loud  beating  of 
the  heart.  But  she  blushed  all  over,  and  stared  in  embar- 
rassment at  the  flowers  in  her  hand,  when  she  heard  the  words 
ring  clear  and  distinct  from  the  mouth  of  the  herald: 

"Arsinoe,  the  second  daughter  of  Keraunus,  Macedonian 
and  Eoman  citizen. " 

The  daughter  of  Tryphon,  who  had  been  called,  left  her 
place  instantly,  but  Arsinoe  waited  modestly  until  a  few 
matrons  rose,  whom  she  followed  across  the  orchestra  and  up 
the  steps  to  the  platform. 

There  the  women  and  girls  were  placed  in  two  rows,  and  re- 
ceived respectful  attention.  Arsinoe  soon  perceived  that  she 
was  looked  at  more  than  the  other  girls,  and  was  conscious 
that  she  was  a  subject  of  discussion  among  the  managers,  and 
that  the  eyes  of  many  in  the  audience  were  fixed  upon  her. 
She  began  to  feel  ashamed,  as  though  fingers  were  pointing 
her  out,  and  yet  it  was  pleasant,  and  when  she  cast  her  eyes  to 
the  ground  she  was  conscious  that  it  was  as  much  to  liide  her 
own  satisfaction  as  embarrassment. 

And  when  the  voice  of  Verus  exclaimed:  "  Charming! 
charming!  A  Eoxana  who  has  just  stepped  out  of  the  pict- 
ure!" she  had  an  intuitive  perception  that  she  herself  was  the 
object  of  his  remark. 

Hearing  her  own  name,  she  ventured  to  look  up,  thinking 
it  must  be  the  voice  of  Pollux  who  had  uttered  it;  but  saw 
only  Plutarch  on  his  living  crutches,  and  the  lank  Gabinius 
inspecting  the  group.  • 

As  they  approached  her,  and  Plutarch  with  his  unequal  gait 
shuffled  past,  he  nudged  Gabinius,  saying— meanwhile  kissing 
his  hand  and  nodding  to  Arsinoe: 


156  THE    EMPEROR. 

"  I  know  her  I  One  does  not  easily  forget  such  faces.  Ivory 
and  red  coral.'' 

Arsinoe  was  frightened,  and  the  blood  left  her  cheeks  and 
all  joy  her  heart,  when  the  old  man  stopped  before  her  and 
said : 

"  See,  here  is  a  bud  from  our  factory  among  the  proud  lilies 
and  roses.  She  has  come  from  the  workshop  to  my  assembly. 
But  that  is  no  matter.  One  rejoices  in  beauty  everywhere.  I 
will  not  ask  how  you  came,  and  am  only  glad  that  you  are 
here. " 

Arsinoe  partly  covered  her  face,  but  he  tapped  on  her  white 
arm  with  his  finger  and  laughed.  Gabinius  asked,  as  they 
passed  on: 

"  Did  I  hear  right?  Is  there  one  of  your  work-people  among 
our  daughters?" 

"  Yes,  certainly;  one  pair  of  active  hands  among  all  these 
idle  ones.'' 

"  Then  she  has  pushed  herself  in,  and  we  must  remove 
her.'' 

"  Do  not  disturb  her;  she  is  charming." 

"  It  is  an  outrage,  here  in  this  assembly." 

"  An  outrage?"  broke  in  Plutarch;  "  not  at  all.  One  must 
not  be  too  particular,  else  how  could  we  receive  the  child  of  a 
mere  dealer  in  antiquities?"  and  went  on  good-naturedly: 
"  Your  own  fine  appreciation  of  beauty  must  be  gratified  with 
this  lovely  being;  or  do  you  fear  that  she  may  be  chosen  for 
the  part  of  Eoxana  instead  of  your  charming  daughter?  Let 
us  listen  to  the  gentlemen  yonder  and  see  what  they  are  do  • 
ing. " 

These  words  referred  to  a  loud  conversation  in  the  immedi- 
ate vicinity  of  the  prefect  and  pretor. 

Both  these  gentlemen,  and  most  of  the  painters  and  sculpt- 
ors, were  of  opinion  that  Arsinoe  was  remarkably  adapted  to 
the  part  of  Koxana,  and  that  she  was  in  face  and  figure  much 
like  Action's  painting  of  this  gentle  daughter  of  the  Bactrian 
prince,  which  had  been  adopted  as  the  model  for  th(i  represen- 
tation. Ojily  Papias  and  two  of  his  brother  sculptors  were 
opposed  to  this  choice,  and  zealously  insisted  that  Praxilla,  the 
dauglitei-  of  Gabinius,  was  the  only  pei\son  in  the  assembly 
qualified  for  the  part  of  Alexander's  bride. 

I'he  three  men  stood  in  close  business  relation  to  the  father 
of  this  slender  and  certainly  handsome  young  woman.  Their 
zeal  became  vehement  when  Gabinius,  in  the  company  of 
Plutarch,  came  so  near  as  to  recognize  their  voices. 

"  And  who  is  the  young  woman?"  asked  Papias,  turning  to- 


THE    EMPEROR.  157 

ward  Arsinoe,  as  the  men  came  nearer.  "  There  is  nothing 
to  be  said  against  her  beauty;  but  her  dress  is  less  tlian  simple; 
she  wears  no  ornaments  worth  speaking  of;  and  I  will  bet  a 
thousand  against  one  that  her  parents  are  not  in  condition  to 
furnish  the  outfit  essential  for  a  Eoxana  on  occasion  of  her 
marriage  to  Alexander.  An  Asiatic  should  appear  in  silk, 
gold  and  jewels.  My  friend  here  would  so  dress  his  Praxilla 
that  the  brilliance  of  her  costume  would  have  surprised  even 
the  great  Macedonian;  but  who  is  the  father  of  that  pretty 
child  to  whom  the  white  dress  and  the  blue  ribbons  in  her  hair, 
and  the  two  roses,  are  all  very  fitting?'^ 

"Your  estimate  is  correct,' '  said  the  dealer,  with  a  dry 
sharpness  in  his  tone;  "  the  girl  of  whom  you  were  speaking 
can  come  no  more  into  question.  I  do  not  say  this  in  the  in- 
terest of  my  daughter,  but  from  a  due  sense  of  the  fitness  of 
things.  One  can  hardly  conceive  how  the  yoimg  creature 
could  have  had  the  audacity  to  push  herself  in  here.  Verily, 
locks  and  bolts  open  to  a  pretty  face.  She  is — and  I  beg  you 
not  to  be  frightened — only  one  of  the  working  peojjle  from  the 
papyrus  mill  of  our  dear  host  Plutarch." 

"  That  is  not  true,"  broke  in  Pollux,  in  contradiction  of  the 
statement. 

"Moderate  your  words,  young  man,"  answered  the  dealer 
in  relics;  "  I  call  you  to  witness,  noble  Plutarch." 

"  Let  her  be  whoever  she  is,"  answered  the  old  man, 
angrily;  "  she  certainly  looks  like  one  of  my  work-people,  but 
if  she  had  come  directly  from  the  pasting- table,  with  such  a 
face  and  such  a  figure  she  is  here  and  everywhere  else  ex- 
cellently in  place.     That  is  my  opinion." 

"  Bravo,  my  handsome  friend!"  cried  Verus,  bowing  to  the 
old  man.  "  The  emperor  cares  far  more  for  such  charming 
faces  as  that  yonder  than  for  all  your  old  certificates  of  citizen- 
shijj  and  your  full  purses. " 

"That  is  so,"  added  the  prefect;  "and  I  am  wilhng  to 
swear  she  is  a  free  maiden,  and  no  slave.  You  appeared  for 
her  defense,  Pollux.      What  do  you  know  of  her?" 

"  That  she  is  the  daughter  of  the  palace  overseer  Keraunus, 
whom  I  have  known  from  childhood,"  answered  Pollux,  aloud. 
"  He  is  a  Roman  citizen,  and  from  an  old  Macedonian  family 
besides." 

"  Perhaps  also  allied  to  the  kingly  race,"  added  Titianus, 
laughing. 

"  I  know  the  man,"  answered  Gabinius,  quickly.  "He  is 
poor,  and  an  arrogant  fool." 

"  I  should  suppose,"  intcrjjosed  Verus,  "  this  were  not  the 


158  THE   EMPEKOl!. 

place  to  discuss  tlie  character  of  the  parents  of  these  women 
and  ^irls/' 

"  But  he  is  poor/^  cried  Gabinius,  excited.  "  A  few  days 
ago  he  offered  to  sell  me  his  miserable  rarities;  but  I  could — " 

"  ^Ve  give  you  our  sympathy  in  the  unsuccessful  bargain," 
broke  in  Verus  again,  and  this  time  with  exquisite  politeness. 
*'  But  we  will  first  consider  tlie  persons,  and  afterward  the 
costume.     The  father  of  this  girl  is  then  a  Roman  citizen?" 

"  A  member  of  the  council,  and,  in  his  own  way,  a  man  of 
prominence, "  said  Titianus. 

"  And  I,"  added  liis  wife  Julia,  "  am  pleased  with  the  ap- 
pearance of  this  young  lady,  and  if  she  be  chosen,  and  her 
father  is  poor,  as  you  assert,  my  friend,  I  will  undertake  the 
charge  of  her  costume.  The  emperor  will  be  charmed  with 
this  Roxana. " 

The  advocates  of  Gabinius  were  silent,  while  he  himself 
trembled  with  rage  and  disappointment;  but  liis  fury  reached 
its  height  when  Plutarch,  whose  influence  he  had  expected  to 
win  for  his  daughter,  bowed  his  corpulent  body  before  Julia, 
and  with  a  pretty  gesture  of  expostulation,  said : 

"  This  time  my  old  eyes  have  deceived  me.  The  child  cer- 
tainly looked  like  one  of  my  work-people — very  much;  but 
now  I  see  there  is  a  certain  something  in  this  face  not  found  in 
the  other.  I  have  done  her  wrong,  and  am  her  debtor.  Will 
you  allow  me,  noble  Julia,  to  add  the  ornaments  to  the  cos- 
tume of  our  Roxana?  I  may  be  fortunate  in  finding  some- 
thing pretty.  I  am  going  directly  to  beg  her  pardon,  and  ex- 
press to  her  our  wish.  AVill  you  permit  it,  noble  lady?  Do 
you  authorize  me,  gentlemen?" 

A  few  moments  later  it  was  known  over  the  whole  stage, 
and  throughout  the  audience  that  Arsinoe,  daughter  of 
Keraunus,  had  been  chosen  to  represent  Roxana. 

"  Who  was  Keraunus?" 

''  How  dared  they  give  the  j^rominent  part  to  any  except  a 
child  of  the  richest  and  best  known  families?" 

"  One  might  expect  it,  when  such  liberties  are  allowed  the 
artist  population." 

"  Where  will  the  poor  thing  find  the  talents  to  purchase  the 
costume  fit  for  an  Asiatic  princess,  the  bride  of  Alexander?" 

"  The  rich  Plutarch  and  the  wife  of  the  prefect  mil  take 
care  of  tliat. " 

"  ]?eggars!" 

"  Our  daughters  could  have  worn  family  jewels!' 

"  Are  we  only  going  to  display  pretty  masks  before  the  em- 
peror, and  iu>t  our  best  jjossessions?" 


THE   EMPEROR.  '  159 

"  Suppose  Hadrian  inquires  about  this  Roxana,  and  some 
one  sliould  tell  him  that  a  collection  was  taken  up  to  buy  her 
costume?" 

"  Such  things  can  only  be  done  in  Alexandria/' 

*'  People  will  find  out  if  she  has  worked  in  Plutarch's  fac- 
tory. That  may  not  be  true,  but  the  old  painted  good-for- 
nothing  is  fond  of  pretty  faces.  He  has  blackened  hers  here! 
Believe  me,  where  you  see  smoke  there  is  fire,  and,  without 
doubt,  she  is  in  the  pay  of  the  old  man." 

"  For  what?" 

"  If  you  wish  to  know  you  must  ask  one  of  the  priests  of 
Aphrodite.  It  is  not  a  thing  to  be  laughed  at,  for  it  is  scan- 
dalous, outrageous!" 

Such  were  the  comments  with  which  the  news  of  Arsinoe's 
choice  to  the  part  of  Roxana  were  received;  and  bitter  resent- 
ment was  roused  in  the  souls  of  Gabinius  and  his  daughter. 

Praxilla  had  been  ajjijointed  to  the  part  of  playmate  of  the 
bride  of  Alexander,  and  accepted  it  without  objection;  but  on 
their  way,  she  nodded  silently  in  answer  to  her  father's  word: 
"  Let  things  go  as  they  please  now.  A  few  hours  before  the 
beginning  of  the  play  I  shall  report  that  you  are  sick." 

But  the  choice  of  Arsinoe  had  also  given  joy.  Keraunus 
sat  in  one  of  the  middle  tiers  of  seats,  with  his  legs  spread  wide 
ajjart,  his  face  in  a  glow,  panting  and  wheezing  in  the  excess 
of  liis  delight,  and  too  joroud  even  to  draw  back  his  feet,  when 
the  brother  of  the  archidikastes  tried  to  jiass  by  him,  although 
he  occupied  two  full  places. 

Arsinoe,  whose  quick  ear  had  caught  the  accusation  of 
Gabinius,  and  the  denial  of  it  by  Pollux,  was,  at  first,  ready  to 
sink  under  shame  and  anxiety;  but  now  she  felt  herself  wafted 
as  on  the  wiugs  of  fortune.  She  had  never  been  so  happy, 
and  when  with  her  father  she  entered  the  first  dark  street,  she 
fell  upon  his  neck,  she  kissed  him  on  both  cheeks,  and  told 
him  how  gracious  Julia,  the  wife  of  Titianus,  had  been,  and 
with  what  friendliness  she  had  undertaken  to  provide  her  costly 
costume.  Keraunus  did  not  object,  and,  strange  to  say,  found 
it  quite  consistent  with  his  own  dignity  to  allow  Plutarch  to 
provide  her  with  jewelry.  "  They  saw,"  he  said,  pathetically, 
"  that  we  did  not  hesitate  to  do  as  much  as  the  other  citizens, 
but  it  needs  millions  to  provide  a  suitable  costume  for  the 
marriage  of  Roxana,  and  I  am  frank  to  confess  I  can  not 
furnish  that.  Whence  it  comes  is  all  the  same  to  me;  and  I 
know  you  are  to  be  first  among  the  best  of  the  city.  I  am 
quite  satisfied,  my  dear  child.  To-morrow  there  will  be  an- 
other gathering,  and  perhaps  Selene  may  also  receive  a  promi- 


ICO  THE   EMPEROR. 

nent  2)art.  Fortunately,  wo  have  enough  to  provide  her  cos- 
tume.    "When  does  the  wife  of  the  prefect  receive  you?" 

"  To-morrow,  about  noon." 

*'  Then  to-morrow  early  we  must  buy  you  a  good  new 
goAvn. " 

''  Will  there  not  also  be  enough  for  a  better  bracelet?  This 
is  so  small  and  poor,"  asked  Arsinoe,  coaxingly. 

"  You  shall  have  one,  for  you  deserve  it,"  answered  Kerau- 
nus,  with  dignity.  "  But  you  must  wait  patiently  another 
day — the  gold-workers  sell  notliing  to-morrow  on  account  of 
the  feast.  ■" 

Arsinoe  had  never  known  her  father  more  cheerful  or  social, 
and  yet  the  way  from  the  theater  to  the  Lochias  was  long,  and 
it  was  already  past  the  time  when  he  was  accustomed  to  sleej^. 
The  gathering  in  the  theater  had  occuj)ied  a  long  time,  for 
after  Arsinoe  had  left  the  stage,  lights  were  brought  and  three 
more  scenes  were  arranged,  and  after  that  the  guests  of 
Plutarch  were  invited  to  jDartake  of  wine,  fruit,  syrup,  sweet 
cakes,  oyster  patties,  and  other  dainties.  The  overseer  had 
eaten  freely  of  the  attractive  dishes,  but  as  there  had  not  been 
time  for  his  usual  greediness,  he  left  in  a  better  humor  than 
was  usual  after  a  feast.  Toward  the  end  of  their  walk  he  be- 
came thoughtful,  and  said: 

"  To-morrow  the  council  meet  to  make  the  final  arrange- 
ments for  the  festivities.  Everybody  will  congratulate  me, 
look  at  me,  ask  my  opinion,  and  the  gilding  of  my  fillet  is 
worn  off,  so  that  in  some  j^laces  the  silver  has  come  into  sight. 
Your  costume  is  provided  for,  and  it  seems  to  me  necessary 
that  I  go  to  a  jeweler  and  exchange  this  unworthy  article  for 
genuine  gokl.     What  a  man  is,  that  he  ought  to  appear. " 

This  sentiment  j^leased  him;  and  when  Arsinoe  begged  him, 
as  they  were  passing  through  the  gate,  only  to  save  enough  for 
Selene's  costume,  he  rniiled,  and  said: 

"We  hardly  need  to  be  anxious  any  more.  I  ought  to 
know  these  Alexandrians,  and  I  think  they  Avill  now  be  trying 
to  Avin  my  Roxana  for  a  wife.  The  only  son  of  the  rich  Plu- 
tarch is  still  unmarried.  He  is  not  very  young,  but  is  a  tine 
man,  and  has  already  a  seat  in  tlie  council." 

The  dreams  of  this  happy  fatlier  were  interrupted  by  Mother 
Doris,  who,  as  they  passed  the  gate-house,  called  his  name. 

Keraunus  stopped,  but  Mhcn  Doris  said:  "I  must  sj^eak 
with  you,"  he  answered: 

"  But  I  will  not  liear  you  to-day  or  any  other  time.  " 

^Tor  my  own  pleasure,"  said  Doris,  ''I  certainly  should 


THE  EMPEROE.  161 

not  address  you^  and  only  wish  to  tell  you  that  Selene  is  not 
at  home.-" 

"■  What  did  you  say?"  asked  Keraunus. 

"  The  poor  cliild,  with  her  maimed  foot,  became  unable  to 
walk,  and  was  taken  into  the  house  of  a  stranger,  where  she  is 
now  cared  for.'^ 

"  Selene!"  cried  Arsinoe,  falling  suddenly  from  her  heaven 
of  joy  into  fright  and  distress.    "  Do  you  know  where  she  is?" 

Before  Doris  could  answer,  Keraunus  blurted  out: 

"  It  is  all  the  fault  of  that  Roman  architect  and  his  savage 
beast.  All  right!  It  is  well,  for  uow  the  emperor  will  cei- 
taiuly  support  my  claim.  He  will  put  out  of  the  way  one  who 
has  injured  the  sister  of  Roxana,  and  prevented  her  appearance 
at  the  festive  parade.     But  it  is  well,  it  is  excellent!" 

"  That  is  sad  enough  to  make  one  weep,"  answered  the 
gatc-keejDer's  wife.  "  Is  that  all  your  gratitude  for  her  care  of 
the  little  children?  How  is  it  possible  for  a  father  to  speak 
thus,  whose  best  child  is  lying  with  a  broken  leg,  in  the  house 
of  a  stranger?" 

"  With  a  broken  leg?"  cried  Arsinoe,  piteously. 

*'  Is  it  broken!"  asked  Keraunus,  slowly,  and  really  anxious. 
"  Where  can  I  find  her?" 

"  She  is  with  one  Hannah,  who  has  a  Kttle  house  within  the 
garden  of  the  widow  of  Pudens." 

"  Why  did  they  not  bring  her  here?" 

"  Because  the  physician  forbade  it.  She  has  a  fever,  but 
will  be  well  nursed.  Hannah  belongs  to  the  Christians.  I  can 
not  endure  these  people,  but  they  do  understand  nursing  bet- 
ter than  all  others. ' ' 

"'With  the  Christians!  My  child  with  the  Christians!" 
cried  Keraunus,  beside  herself.  "  Quick,  Arsinoe,  come  with 
me  directly.  Selene  shall  not  remain  one  moment  longer  than 
is  absolutely  necessary  among  the  cursed  rabble.  Everlasting 
gods!  To  think  such  disgrace  should  be  added  to  all  my  other 
misfortunes!" 

"It  is  not  so  bad  as  that,"  said  Doris,  good  humoredly. 
"  There  ai'e  excellent  people  among  the  Christians — certainly 
they  are  honest,  for  the  poor  hunchbacked  thing  who  brought 
the  news  gave  me  this  money  which  Hannah  found  in  Selene's 
pocket. " 

Keranus  put  out  his  hand  for  the  poor  wages  of  his  daughter 
as  scornfully  as  if  accustomed  to  gold  and  caring  nothing  for 
miserable  silver;  but  at  sight  of  the  drachmas,  Arsinoe  began 
to  weep,  because  she  knew  that  for  the  sake  of  this  petty  suiji 

6 


162  THE  EMPEROR. 

Selene  had  left  her  home,  and  she  felt  intuitively  what  pain 
she  must  have  suffered  on  the  way. 

'"'  A  mere  pretense  of  honor!"  cried  Keraunus,  as  he  fastened 
his  purse.  "  I  have  heard  of  the  shameful  doings  in  the  re- 
ligious meetings  of  this  set.  Exchanging  kisses  with  slaves  is 
not  exactly  the  thing  for  my  daughter.  Come,  Arsinoe,  we 
will  find  a  litter  immediately.^' 

"  No,  no!"  exclaimed  Doris.  "  At  first  you  must  leave  her 
in  peace.  This  is  a  hard  thing  to  say  to  a  father,  but  the 
physician  declared  it  might  cost  her  life  if  she  were  not  quiet. 
With  the  inflamed  wound  on  her  head,  the  fever,  and  a  broken 
leg,  she  is  not  likely  to  attend  their  meetings.  The  poor,  dear 
child!" 

Keraunus  brooded  silently,  but  Arsinoe  said: 

"  I  must  go  to  her,  I  must  see  her,  Doris!" 

"  That  I  would  not  think  of  preventing,  my  darling,"  said 
the  old  woman.  "  I  went  myself  to  the  Christian's  house,  but 
they  would  not  allow  me  to  see  her.  AVith  you  it  is  different, 
for  you  are  a  sister." 

"  Come,  father,"  begged  Arsinoe,  "  we  will  first  look  after 
the  children,  and  then  you  will  accompany  me  to  Selene.  Oh, 
why  did  I  not  go  with  her  this  morning?  Alas,  if  she  should 
die!" 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Keraunus  and  Arsinoe  went  very  carefully  toward  their 
dwelling,  for  fear  of  an  encounter  with  the  Molossian,  which, 
however,  was  to-night  in  the  sleeping  apartment  of  Antinous. 
They  found  the  old  slave  woman  in  great  excitement,  for  she 
loved  Selene,  and  was  also  anxious  about  the  other  children, 
who  did  not  seem  well.  Arsinoe  went  immediately  to  their 
sleeping-room,  but  the  old  woman  related  to  her  master,  while 
he  was  exchanging  his  crocus-colored  pallium  and  his  sandals 
for  other  articles  of  a  poorer  sort,  that  the  darling  of  his 
heart,  the  little  Helios,  was  very  sick,  and  that  she  had  given 
him  some  of  the  medicine  Keraunus  liimself  was  in  the  habit 
of  using. 

"  Idiotic  animal,"  cried  Keraunus,  "  to  give  ray  medicine 
to  the  child!  If  you  were  not  so  old  I  would  have  you 
scourged." 

"  But  you  said  the  drops  were  good,"  stammered  the  slave. 

*'  Yes,  for  me,"  cried  Keraunus,  hastening,  without  stop- 
ping to  fasten  his  sandal  straps,  into  the  childreii's  room. 
There  sat  his  blind  favorite,  his  ''heir,"  as  he  loved  to  call 


THE  EMtEEOR.  163 

liim,  nestling  his  pretty  head  against  Arsiuoe^s  breast.  The 
child  knew  his  father's  step,  and  moaned : 

"'  Selene  was  away,  I  was  frightened,  and  I  feel  so  bad,  so 
bad/' 

Keraunus  laid  his  hand  on  the  boy's  head.  Finding  it  very 
hot  he  strode  restlessly  up  and  down  before  the  tiny  bed,  say- 
ing : 

*'  So  it  goes.  If  one  misfortune  comes  another  is  sure  to 
follow.  Look  at  him,  Arsinoe.  Do  you  remember  how  the 
fever  began  with  poor  Berenice?  Nausea,  restlessness,  and  a 
hot  head.     Is  your  throat  sore,  my  child?" 

'■  No,  but  I  feel  so  bad,"  answered  Helios. 

Keraunus  pulled  open  his  little  shirt  to  see  if  there  were  any 
spots  on  the  breast,  but  Arsinoe  said,  as  she  bent  over: 

"  1  think  it  is  only  a  fit  of  indigestion.  The  stupid  old  slave 
gives  him  everything  he  asks  for,  and  he  has  eaten  half  the 
raisin-cakes  we  bade  her  bring  home  as  we  were  going  out." 

"  But  his  head  is  very  hot,"  answered  Keraimus. 

"  It  will  be  all  right  in  the  morning.  Poor  Selene  needs  us 
more  than  he  does.  Come,  father,  the  old  woman  can  stay 
with  him." 

"  Selene  ought  to  come,"  whined  the  child.  "  Please, 
please,  do  not  leave  me  alone  again." 

"Father  will  stay  with  you,"  .said  Keraunus,  tenderly,  for 
the  appeal  moved  his  heart.  "  None  of  you  realize  what  we 
possess  in  this  child." 

"  He  will  soon  be  asleep,"  persisted  Arsinoe.  "  Let  us  go 
at  once,  else  it  will  be  too  late. " 

"  And  leave  the  old  woman  to  commit  another  act  of 
stupidity?  It  is  my  duty  to  stay  with  this  child.  You  can 
go  to  yo\ir  sister,  and  take  the  old  slave  for  company." 

"  Very  well.     I  will  return  early  in  the  morning." 

"  In  the  morning!"  exclaimed  Keraunus.  "  No,  no,  that 
will  not  do.  Doris  says  Selene  will  be  well  nursed  among  the 
Christians.  You  can  see  how  she  is,  carry  my  best  wishes, 
and  then  come  back. " 

"  But,  father—" 

"  Besides,  you  must  not  forget  that  the  wife  of  the  prefet3t 
expects  you  to-morrow,  to  choose  the  stuff  for  your  costume. 
On  that  account  you  must  not  look  tired  or  lose  your  sleep. " 

"  I  can  rest  some  in  the  morning." 

"  111  the  morning!  Think  of  my  curls!  and  your  new  gown! 
and  the  poor  Helios!  The  festivities  begin  early  to-morrow, 
and  you  know  how  it  always  is  then.     The  old  slave  would  bo 


164  THE  EMPEROR. 

of  no  use  in  tho  crowd.  You  can  only  see  how  she  is,  and  5'OU 
must  not  stay. " 

"  I  will  see—" 

"Not  a  word  of  'seeing/  Come  back  directly!  I  com- 
mand it.     Within  two  hours  you  must  be  in  your  bed. " 

Arsinoe  sln-ugged  her  shoulders,  and  a  few  minutes  later 
stood  with  the  slave  before  the  gate-keci^er's  house.  A  broad 
stream  of  light  fell  through  the  open  door  of  the  room  so 
cheerful  with  birds  and  flowers.  She  saw  that  both  Euphorion 
and  Doris  were  there,  and  so  the  gate  could  be  opened  without 
delay.  The  Graces  barked,  but  recognized  an  old  friend, 
and  did  not  leave  their  cushions.  For  many  years  iVrsinoe,  in 
obedience  to  her  father's  strict  command,  had  not  entered  this 
home-like  retreat,  and  her  heart  beat  more  warmly  as  she 
looked  again  on  what  had  been  so  pleasant  in  her  childhood 
and  never  forgotten.  There  were  the  birds,  the  Httle  dogs, 
the  lute  hanging  on  the  wall  near  the  Apollo.  And  on  the 
table,  as  of  old,  a  golden  brown  cake  stood  close  beside  the 
wine  jar.  How  often  had  she  step23ed  in  there  for  some  dainty 
bit,  or  to  find  Pollux,  whose  clever  inventions  and  ready  in- 
terest gave  a  fresh  charm  to  all  work  and  all  play.  And  there 
he  sat  at  this  moment,  with  liis  long  legs  stretched  out,  telling 
the  story  of  her  choice  to  the  part  of  Eoxana,  and  applying 
such  adjectives  to  her  name  as  made  the  blood  rush  to  her 
cheeks,  for  she  was  sure  he  had  no  suspicion  that  she  was 
listening.  The  boy  had  become  a  stately  man,  and  a  famous 
sculptor — but  still  lie  was  the  same  good-natured  and  kind- 
hearted  Pollux.  The  bold  leap  with  which  he  sprimg  from 
his  seat  toward  her,  the  fresh  laugh  interrupting  her  words, 
the  tender,  child-like  caresses  bestowed  upon  his  mother,  and 
the  hearty  tone  of  his  sympathy  in  the  misfortunes  of  Selene — 
all  this  so  roused  the  dear  old  long-absent  emotions  \vithin  her 
that  she  clasped  joyfully  the  great  hands  held  out  toward  her, 
and  if  in  that  moment  he  had.  pressed  her  to  liis  heart,  it  would 
have  seemed  only  natural. 

Arsinoe  had  gone  into  the  house  of  Doris  with  a  heavy 
weight  on  her  spirits,  but  something  in  this  atmosphere  so 
softened  and  dispelled  it  that  instead  of  the  tormenting  dread  of 
impending  danger,  she  thought  of  her  sister  only  as  detained 
by  a  lame  foot,  upon  a  comfortable  bed.  In  place  of  anxiety 
came  tender  and  hearty  sympathy,  a7id  her  voice  was  almost 
cheerful  as  she  asked  Euphorion  to  open  the  gate.  Doris  had 
quieted  her  with  the  assurance  that  Selene  would  be  carefully 
nursed  in  the  house  of  Hainiah — but  thinking  her  wish  to  see 
her  sister   only  natural,  had   heartily  seconded    the  offer  of 


THE  EMPEEOR.  165 

Pollux  to  go  with  her,  knowing  as  they  did  that  the  streets 
would  be  filled  with  a  noisy  and  wanton  crowd  soon  after  mid- 
night, and  that  a  bat  would  be  as  effectual  in  protecting 
Arsinoe  from  the  drunken  slaves  they  were  sure  to  meet,  as 
this  old  black  scare-crow,  who  was  only  a  wreck-before  she  had 
come  into  tlie  possession  of  Kcraunus. 

They  walked  in  silence  side  by  side  through  the  dimly  lighted 
streets,  meetiug  more  people  the  further  they  went.  At  length 
Pollux  said: 

"  Lay  your  arm  within  mine,  that  you  may  feel  more  sure 
of  my  protection,  and  that  I  may  better  realize  that  I  have 
found  you  again,  and  am  permitted  to  be  near  you,  you 
wonderful  creature/' 

These  words  were  not  spoken  in  jest,  but  hearty  earnest, 
and  the  deep  voice  of  the  young  sculptor  trembled  with  excite- 
ment, and  his  tone  ex]3ressed  sincere  tenderness.  To  the 
young  maiden  they  were  as  the  finger  of  love  knocking  upon 
her  heart,  and  without  hesitation  she  laid  her  arm  within  his, 
saying: 

"  1  am  sure  you  will  protect  me." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  taking  her  little  hand  into  his  own. 

She  did  not  withdraw  it,  and  after  they  had  walked  in 
silence  a  few  moments,  he  asked: 

"  Do  you  know  how  I  feel?" 

"  How  is  it?" 

"  I  can  not  quite  express  it,  but  I  think  as  a  victor  in  the 
Olympian  games,  or  one  on  whom  the  emjieror  had  bestowed 
the  purple.  But  wreath  and  robe  are  beggarly  in  comparison. 
I  have  you  hanging  on  my  arm,  and  I  hold  your  hand.  If  the 
people  were  not  all  about,  I — I  might — I  don't  know  what  I 
might  do." 

She  looked  into  his  face,  and  he  raised  her  hand  to  his  lips, 
pressing  it  long  and  fervently.  Then  he  released  it,  saying 
with  a  deep  sigh : 

"  Oh,  Arsinoe,  beautiful  Arsinoe,  how  I  love  you!" 

And  she  only  drew  his  arm  closer,  laid  her  head  on  his 
shoulder,  and  whisjoered: 

"  Oh,  Pollux,  I  am  so  happy,  and  the  world  is  so  fair!" 

"  But  I  could  hate  it,"  returned  Pollux.  "  To  have  an  old 
body  close  by,  who  hears  and  sees  everything — and  to  be  forced 
to  walk  in  this  crowded  street  is  quite  unendurable.  I  can  not 
bear  it  much  longer.     Girl  of  girls,  here  it  is  dark." 

Yes,  for  the  moment  they  walked  in  the  shadow  of  a  few 
large  houses,  though  their  hearts  were  in  clear  sunshine, 
Pollux  flung  his  arms  about  her  in  a  quick  embrace,  pressing 


166  THE   EMPEKOR. 

the  first  kiss  upon  those  pure  lips.  Arsinoe  had  clasped  his 
neck,  and  would  have  stayed  there  until  the  end  of  the  day, 
had  not  a  train  of  noisy  slaves  approached,  who  were  already 
anticipating  the  feast  day  which  would  for  a  short  space  of 
time  release  them  from  duty.  Pollux  well  knew  how  un- 
licensed they  became  in  their  mirth,  and  begged  Arsinoe  to 
cling  as  closely  as  possible  to  the  houses. 

"  How  jolly  they  are!"  exclaimed  he,  "  for  the  best  day  of 
their  year  is  beginning;  for  us  it  is  the  opening  of  the  fairest 
in  life. " 

"  Yes,'*  answered  Arsinoe,  clinging  closer  to  his  arm.  Then 
they  both  laughed  merrily,  for  Pollus  had  bid  her  notice  that 
their  old  slave  had  passed  on,  attaching  herself  to  another 
couple. 

"  I  will  call  her,"  said  Arsinoe. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Pollux;  "  let  her  be.  That  pair  probably 
need  her  protection  more  than  we  do. " 

"  How  is  it  possible  that  she  can  mistake  that  little  man  for 
you?"  asked  the  girl,  laughing. 

"  Were  I  only  a  little  smaller!"  answered  Pollux,  with  a 
sigh.  "  But  only  think  what  an  excess  of  burning  love  and 
longing  such  a  long  vessel  can  contain!" 

She  struck  him  playfully  on  the  arm,  and  he  touched  his 
lips  to  her  forehead.     She  said  reprovingly: 

"  Don't  forget  the  people,"  and  he  returned: 

"  It  is  no  misfortune  to  be  envied. " 

This  was  the  end  of  the  street,  and  they  found  themselves 
before  a  garden  which  belonged  to  the  "svidow  of  Pudens. 
Pollux  recognized  it,  for  Paulina  was  a  sister  of  Pontius,  the 
chief  architect,  and  had  also  a  fine  house  in  the  city.  Was  it 
possible  that  they  could  hav5  reached  the  spot  so  soon,  unless 
Drought  thither  by  invisible  hands? 

The  gate  of  the  inclosure  was  locked,  but  Pollux  waked  the 
porter,  who,  on  learning  their  names,  said  he  had  been  in- 
structed to  admit  any  friends  of  the  sick  girl  inside,  and  he 
guided  them  to  a  point  whence  they  could  see  a  lighted  window 
in  the  sick-room.  A  crescent  moon  lighted  the  path  strewn 
with  mussel  shells,  the  trees  and  bushes  threw  shai'p  shadows 
upon  the  grassy  sward,  the  waves  sparkled  in  the  soft  beams. 
As  they  passed  under  a  shaded  arbor,  Pollux,  opening  wide 
his  arms,  said: 

*'  Now,  one  more  kiss,  as  a  memento  duiing  your  absence." 

"  Not  now, "  begged  the  maiden.  "I  can  not  be  merry 
any  more  for  thinking  of  my  poor  Selene." 

"  'J'here's  nothing  to  say  agauist  that,"  replied  Pollux,  with 


THE  EMPEROR.  167 

resignation.  "  But  when  the  waiting  is  over  I  shall  claim  my 
reward. '^ 

"  That  you  can  have  now/'  cried  Arsinoe,  throwing  herself 
upon  his  breast,  and  then  hastened  to  the  house.  He  followed, 
and  together  they  stopped  before  a  lighted  window  on  the 
ground-floor,  which  looked  into  a  high  spacious  room,  with  a 
door  opening  into  the  uncovered  space  common  in  all  houses. 
The  walls  were  of  a  light  green  tint,  and  the  only  pictured 
decoration  was  above  the  door. 

Selene  was  lying  upon  a  bed  in  the  back  part  of  the  room, 
and  near  her  sat  the  hunchbacked  girl  asleep.  Hannah  was 
laying  a  wet  cloth  upon  her  forehead. 

Pollux  whispered:- 

"  There  lies  your  sister,  like  the  sleeping  Ariadne,  forsaken 
of  Dionysius.     Alas,  what  grief  awaits  her  awakening!" 

"  She  does  not  seem  to  me  as  j)ale  as  usual. "" 

"  Look  at  the  curve  of  her  arm,  and  how  graceful  the 
position  of  her  head.'' 

"  Go  now,"  whispered  Arsinoe;  "  you  should  not  listen." 

"  Yes,  directly.  If  it  were  you  lying  there  no  god  could 
move  me  from  the  place." 

"  How  carefully  Hannah  removes  the  bandage  from  the 
poor  sick  ankle!  No  eye  could  be  more  tenderly  treated  than 
this  matron  cares  for  Selene's  foot." 

"  Step  back,  she  is  looking  this  way.'* 

"  A  wonderful  face;  perhaps  a  Penelope;  but  her  eye  has 
something  peculiar.  If  I  were  again  to  represent  Urania 
gazing  at" the  stars,  or  a  Sappho  in  her  poetic  frenzy,  I  would 
like  that  face  before  me.  It  makes  me  think  of  a  sky  from 
which  the  wind  has  driven  all  the  clouds." 

"  Eeally,  you  must  go,"  said  Arsinoe,  drawing  back  her 
hand,  which  he  instantly  seized  again.  He  noticed  that  she 
was  annoyed  by  hearing  him  praise  another  woman,  and  said, 
good-naturedly,  throwing  his  arm  around  her:  "Be  quiet, 
child;  there  is  not  your  equal  in  all  Alexandria,  or  so  far  as 
the  Greek  language  is  spoken.  A  perfectly  clear  sky  is  cer- 
tainly not  the  most  beautiful  to  me — mere  light,  mere  blue,  is 
not  enough  for  an  artist.  A  few  moving  clouds,  tinged  by 
golden  and  silver  beams,  give  the  firmament  its  truest  charm, 
and  if  I  liken  your  face  to  the  sky  it  would  not  be  found  want- 
ing in  those  lovely  varieties.     This  matron — ' ' 

"  See  now,"  broke  in  Arsinoe,  who  had  again  nestled  c-osely 
to  his  side,  "  how  tenderly  Hannah  bends  over  Selene  and 
her  on  the  forehead.     A  mother  could  not  be  more 


168  THE   EMPEROR. 

gentle.  I  have  known  her  a  long  time.  She  is  so  good  that  I 
can  hardly  believe  she  is  a  Christian.'' 

"  The  cross  above  the  door  yonder  is  the  sign  by  which 
these  strange  people  recognize  each  other. " 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  the  dove,  and  the  fish,  and  the 
anchor,  which  surround  it?" 

"  Symbols  of  the  Christian  mysteries/'  answered  Pollux. 
"1  do  not  understand  them.  The  things  are  wretchedly 
painted;  the  followers  of  the  crucified  God  despise  all  the  arts, 
especially  mine,  and  they  hate  all  images  of  the  gods. " 

"  And  yet  there  are  such  good  people  among  these  blas- 
phemers. I  will  go  in  immediately.  Hannah  is  preparing 
another  compress." 

"  And  how  serene  and  friendly  she  looks!  But  there  is 
something  in  that  great  bare  room  foreign  and  imattractive. 
I  should  not  like  to  live  there. " 

*'  Have  you  noticed  the  odor  of  lavender  which  comes 
through  the  window?" 

"  Yes,  for  some  time.  Your  sister  is  moving  and  opening 
her  eyes.     Now  they  close  again."' 

"  Go  back  into  the  garden  and  wait  for  me.  I  only  want 
to  see  how  Selene  is,  and  shall  not  stay  long,  for  father  wishes 
me  to  come  back  soon,  and  no  one  can  take  better  care  of  her 
than  Hannah." 

The  girl  drew  her  hand  out  of  that  of  her  friend,  and 
knocked  on  the  door.  It  was  instantly  opened,  and  the  widow 
led  Arsinoe  to  the  bed  of  her  sister.  Pollux  at  first  sat  down 
upon  a  garden  bench,  but  the  joy  within  his  heart  made  him 
sjiring  up  and  stride  back  and  forth  along  the  path  he  had 
walked  with  Arsinoe.  A  stone  table  impeded  his  i^i'ogress, 
and  he  leaped  over  it  again  and  again.  He  was  once  more  the 
meriy  boy,  the  lucky  child.  But  while  waiting  he  became 
quieter  and  more  serious.  He  said  thankfully  to  himself  that 
he  had  now  found  the  womanly  image  of  which  he  had  dreamed 
in  his  best  hours,  and  that  it  belonged  to  him  alone.  But  who 
was  he?  a  poor  rascal,  with  many  mouths  to  feed.  That  must 
be  changed.  He  woukl  not  desert  his  sister,  but  he  must 
break  with  Papias  and  stand  on  his  own  feet.  His  courage 
was  high,  and  before  Arsinoe  returned  he  had  resolved  to  open 
a  worjcshop  of  his  own,  with  the  bust  of  Balbilla,  and  then 
model  one  of  his  beloved.  These  two  heads  could  not  fail  of 
Ijding  ajipreciated. 

Tlie  emjieror  would  see  them,  and  he  already  fancied  him- 
self refusing  a  crowd  of  applications,  choosing  only  the  most 
desirable  among  them  all. 


THE   EMPEEOR.  169 

Arsinoe  was  going  home  much  relieved.  Selene  was  not  so 
badly  off  as  she  had  feared — she  needed  no  one  but  Hannah  to 
nurse  her — and  though  she  had  some  fever,  yet  how  could  one 
be  very  sick  who  asked  after  all  the  little  affairs  of  the  house- 
keeping, and  gave  so  many  directions  for  the  comfort  of  the 
children? 

So  thought  Arsinoe,  as  she  walked  back  through  the  garden, 
leaning  on  tlie  arm  of  Pollux. 

"  It  must  do  her  good  to  know  that  her  sister  is  to  be 
Eoxana,^'  said  Pollux;  but  his  pretty  companion  shook  her 
head,  replying: 

"  She  is  always  so  peculiar,  and  never  cares  about  the  things 
which  please  me  most. " 

"  Selene  represents  the  moon,  and  you  the  sun/' 

"  And  who  are  you?" 

"  I  am  the  tall  Pollux,  and  to-day  it  seems  to  me  I  can  be 
even  greater." 

"  If  you  succeed  I  must  grow  with  you.'* 

"  That  will  be  your  right,  for  it  is  only  through  you  I  can 
hope  to  succeed." 

"  What  can  such  an  unskillful  body  do  to  help  an  artist?" 

"  By  living  and  loving  me,'' he  cried,  clasping  her  in  his 
arms. 

Beside  the  garden  gate  sat  the  old  slave  asleep  on  a  curb- 
stone. She  had  learned  from  the  porter  that  her  young  mis- 
tress was  within,  but  had  not  been  allowed  to  enter.  Arsinoe 
did  not  waken  her,  and  asked  Pollux,  with  a  roguish  laugh: 

"  Do  you  think  we  can  find  the  way  by  ourselves?" 

"  If  Eros  does  not  lead  us  astray,^'  answered  Pollux.  And 
they  went  on,  jesting  and  exchanging  tender  words. 

The  nearer  they  came  to  the  Lochias  and  the  broad  business 
streets  which  cut  the  Canopus  at  right  angles,  the  fuller  be- 
came the  stream  of  people.  But  this  was  favorable  to  privacy; 
for  whoever  wished  to  be  unobserved  had  only  to  mix  with 
the  throng.  Carried  onward  toward  the  central  point  of  the 
festivities,  Pollux  and  Arsinoe  held  each  other  in  close  em- 
brace, that  they  might  not  be  separated  by  the  eager  crowd  of 
Thracian  women,  who,  faithful  to  their  national  traditions, 
were  going  together  to  sacrifice  a  heifer  on  this  night  follow- 
ing the  shortest  day  of  the  year. 

Scarcely  one  hundred  steps  from  the  Moon  Street  the  eoimd 
of  wild,  fantastic  songs,  accompanied  by  drums  and  flutes,  the 
ringing  of  bells,  and  loud  chants,  smote  u])on  their  ears;  and 
just  at  the  beginning  of  the  Lochias,  where  the  King  Street 
crosses  the  Bruchiom,  there  poured  forth  a  merry  crowd. 


170  THE  EMPEROR. 

Foremost  among  man}'  whom  he  knew  was  Teuker,  a  cutter 
of  gems,  and  3'onngcr  brotlier  of  the  happy  Pollux.  Crowned 
with  ivy,  and  bearing  a  Thyrsus  staff,  he  came  forward  danc- 
ing, and  behind  him  followed  a  crowd  of  men  and  women, 
shouting  and  singing  in  frenzied  excitement.  Vijie,  ivy,  and 
asphodel  fluttered  over  a  hundred  heads;  pojipy,  lotus  and 
laurel  wreaths  trembled  above  heated  brows;  skins  of  panthei-, 
deer,  and  stag  hung  loosely  over  naked  shoulders,  to  be  flung 
into  the  air  by  the  wind  and  the  motions  of  their  wearers. 
Artists  and  rich  young  lords  returning  with  their  mistresses 
from  a  feast  led  the  procession  with  a  band  of  music.  And 
whoever  chanced  to  meet  this  jovial  comi^any  was  at  once 
swept  into  their  train.  Eespectable  citizens  with  their  wives, 
laborers,  girls,  slaves,  soldiers,  sailors,  military  officers,  flute- 
players,  trades-jDeople,  ship)-captains,  a  Avhole  theater-choir, 
whom  a  lover  of  their  art  had  been  entertaining  as  guests,  a 
company  of  excited  M'omen  tugging  a  he-goat  to  sacrifice — not 
one  of  them  all  resisted  the  imj^ulse  to  follow  the  train. 
Turning  into  the  Moon  Street  they  kept  in  the  broad  space 
shaded  by  elm-trees  and  bounded  on  each  side  by  a  footpath, 
not  used  at  this  time  of  the  night.  Shrilly  sounded  the  double 
flutes;  vigorously  were  the  calf -skin  drum-heads  beaten  by 
girlish  hands;  merrily  played  the  wind  with  the  loosened  hair 
of  the  women  and  the  flame  of  the  torches,  and  loud  the 
shouts  of  the  wanton  fellows,  dressed  to  represent  Pan  and  the 
Satyrs. 

Here,  a  girl  was  playing  on  a  tambourine  which  she  held 
high  in  the  air,  as  she  ran  shaking  the  shells  on  its  rim  as  if 
she  meant  to  loosen  the  metallic  balls  and  send  them  on  their 
own  way  through  the  air;  there,  a  handsome  young  fellow, 
excited  to  the  very  verge  of  madness,  sprung  in  graceful 
leaps,  bearing  the  long  tail  of  the  heifer  which  had  been 
fastened  to  his  person,  with  comical  carefulness,  over  his  arm, 
and  blowing  lustily  through  the  succession  of  reeds  in  his  Pan- 
pipe. Sometimes  a  bellowing  roar  came  from  the  midst  of 
the  throng  that  suggested  jjain  rather  than  pleasure.  But  it 
was  quickly  followed  by  unrestrained  laughter,  wild  song  and 
merry  music.  Old  and  yoimg,  high  and  low,  who  came  near 
to  this  procession  were  by  an  irresistible  impulse  constrained 
to  follow  it,  with  some  noisy  demonstration.  Even  Pollux 
and  Arsinoe  found  their  feet  involuntarily  keej)hig  time  to  the 
music. 

*'  How  merry  it  is!"  cried  Pollux;  "  I  am  wild  with  a  desire 
to  dance  with  you. " 

Jiefore  she  hiKl  time  to  answer  either  "  yes  "  or  '*'  uo,  "  he  ut- 


THE  EMPEKOK.  171 

tered  loud  the  ejaculation,  "  lo,  lo,  Dionysius/'  and  swung  her 
high  into  the  air.  She  was  seized  by  the  same  impulse,  and 
flinging  her  hands  ujaward.  Joined  in  his  shout,  and  permitted 
him  to  take  her  to  a  corner  of  the  street  where  sat  a  woman 
selling  wreaths.  There  Pollux  crowned  her  with  vine  leaves, 
and  she  put  a  wreath  of  laurel  on  his  head,  wound  ivy  about 
his  neck  and  breast,  and  laughed  aloud  when  he  threw  a  piece 
of  silver  into  the  lap  of  the  woman,  she  meanwhile  clinging 
fast  to  his  arm.  All  was  done  without  reflection,  as  in  a  fit  of 
intoxication,  in  haste  and  with  trembling  fingers.  They  were 
near  the  end  of  the  train.  As  a  group  of  six  girls,  crowned 
with  wreaths  and  arms  twined  together,  passed,  Pollux  drew 
Arsinoe  in  behind  them,  and  with  their  arms  joined,  they 
danced  rapidly  forward,  swinging  their  free  arms,  throwing 
back  their  heads  with  song  and  shout,  and,  forgetting  all 
around,  they  believed  themselves  girdled  by  siuibeams  and 
lifted  by  some  god  far  upward  among  the  stars,  and  into  the 
high  ethereal  spaces. 

And  so  they  went  through  the  Moon  Street  to  the  Canopic 
way,  and  back  again  to  the  Temple  of  Dionysius  by  the  sea. 

There  they  stopped  quite  out  of  breath,  and  suddenly  re- 
membered that  he  was  Pollux,  and  she  was  Arsinoe,  who  must 
return  to  her  father  and  to  the  little  brothers  and  sisters. 

"  Come  home,"'  she  whispered,  dropping  her  arms,  and  be- 
ginning with  shame  to  gather  up  her  loosened  hair. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  answered  Pollux,  as  in  a  dream.  Then, 
loosenmg  her  from  his  clasp,  he  beat  upon  his  forehead,  and 
cried,  turning  to  the  open  cella  of  the  temple: 

"  That  thou  art  mighty,  Dionysius,  that  thou  art  beautiful. 
Aphrodite,  that  thou  art  charming,  Eros,  have  I  long  known; 
but  to-day  do  I  learn  for  the  first  time  how  immeasurable  are 
thy  gifts. '^ 

"We  have  been  entirely  filled  by  the  god,"  said  Arsinoe; 
"  and  it  was  wonderful;  but  another  train  is  coming,  and  I 
must  go  home.'' 

"  Then  we  will  pass  through  the  narrow  street  by  the  har- 
bor," replied  Pollux. 

"  Yes.  I  must  pick  the  leaves  out  of  my  hair,  and  no  one 
can  see  us  yonder." 

"  I  will  help  you — " 

"  No,  you  must  not  touch  me,"  said  Arsinoe,  with  decision. 

Then  she  gathered  ujj  her  soft,  shining  tresses,  shaking  out 
the  leaves  which  were  hidden  there  like  beetles  in  the  many- 
leaved  shrubs.     Then  she  covered  it  with  her  veil,  which  had 


172  THE  EMPEROR. 

fortunately  climg  to  the  clasp  of  her  peplum.  Pollux  looked 
on,  and  cried: 

"  P^verlastiug  gods,  how  I  love  you!    My  heart  has  been  a 

{■)la}'ful  eliild,  but  to-day  it  seems  changed  into  something 
icroic.     Only  wait  a  little — it  soon  will  use  weapons!" 

''  And  I  shall  battle  with  it,"  said  she,  joyfully,  laying 
again  her  arm  within  his  own,  and  they  went  on,  more  danc- 
ing than  walking,  to  the  palace. 

The  cold  gray  light  of  the  December  sun  had  already  tinted 
the  horizon  when  they  reached  the  gate,  already  opened  for 
the  entrance  of  the  workmen.  They  kej^t  on  to  the  Hall  of 
the  Muses,  and  as  they  were  taking  leave  of  each  other  at  the 
entrance  of  the  passage  leading  to  the  overseer's  house,  the 
glimmer  of  a  lamp  startled  them  asunder.  Arsiuoe  quickly 
disappeared.  Antinous  came  forward.  He  was  waiting  there 
for  the  emperor,  who  was  still  in  the  watch-tower  Pontius  had 
arranged  for  liis  use,  and  had  recognized  PoIIujj:  and  Arsinoe. 
Turning  to  Pollux,  he  said,  pleasantly: 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  if  I  have  disturbed  an  interview  with 
your  mistress. " 

^'  She  is  my  bride,"  said  Pollux,  proudly. 

"  So  much  the  better,"  said  Antinous,  with  a  sigh  of  ap- 
parent relief  in  his  tone.  "  So  much  the  better.  Can  you 
tell  me  of  the  sister  of  this  beautiful  Arsinoe?" 

"  Certainly,"  answered  Pollux,  and  was  gratified  when 
Antinous  clung  to  his  arm. 

Withm  the  next  hour  he  had  comj^letely  won  the  heart  of 
the  emperor's  favorite  by  the  cheerful  and  inspiring  words  that 
poured  in  full  stream  from  his  lips. 

The  girl  found  her  father  and  her  brother  Helios,  who  had 
no  more  the  ai^pearance  of  sickness,  fast  asleep.  The  old  slave 
arrived  within  a  few  moments,  and  as  Arsinoe  at  last  threw 
herself  upon  her  bed,  she  slcjot  immediately,  and  in  her  dream 
was  again  at  the  side  of  Pollux,  and  together  they  were  flying 
like  leaves  driven  before  the  wind,  high  above  the  dusty  earth, 
to  the  sound  of  trumpet  and  flute  and  shell. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

It  was  after  sunrise  when  Keraunus  woke.  He  had  slept  as 
soundly  in  his  arm-chair  as  he  would  have  done  in  his  bed,  but 
did  not  feel  so  much  refreshed. 

In  the  common  room  he  found  everything  as  it  had  been 
left  on  the  previous  evening,  and  that  vexed  him,  for  he  was 
accustomed  to  find  this  ai)artment  in  complete  order.     Upon 


THE    EMPEKOR.  173 

the  table  stood  the  remains  of  the  children's  evening  meal 
swarming  with  flies,  and  among  the  dishes  and  bread-crusts 
glittered  the  ornaments  which  he  and  Arsinoe  had  hastily  laid 
down.  Wherever  he  looked  were  garments  out  of  place,  and 
various  other  things  which  did  not  belong  there. 

The  old  slave  woman  came  in  yawning — her  gray  wool  in 
disorder,  her  eyes  bleared,  and  her  step  unsteady. 

"  You  are  drunk,^'  cried  Keraunus,  and  this  was  certainly 
true,  for  when  she  woke  from  her  nap  on  the  curbstone,  and 
learned,  through  the  gate-keeper,  that  Arsinoe  had  left  the 
garden,  she  had  been  enticed  by  other  slaves  into  a  wine-shoj). 

When  her  master  seized  her  by  the  arm  and  shook  her,  she 
said,  with  a  stupid  grin: 

"  This  is  a  feast-day.     All  is  free.^' 

"  Roman  nonsense,"  broke  in  Keraunus;  ''  is  my  soup 
ready?" 

While  the  woman  was  murmuring  some  unintelligible  words, 
the  other  slave  came  in  and  asked: 

"  Everybody  is  merry  to-day;  can  I  go  out?" 

"  That  would  suit  me  nicely,"  answered  Keraunus;  "  this 
creature  drunk,  Selene  sick,  and  you  on  the  street." 

"  But  no  one  stays  at  home  to-day,"  answered  the  black, 
timidly. 

"  Then  pack  yourself  off,"  screeched  Keraunus.  "  Roam 
around  until  midnight.  Do  what  you  please,  but  don't  expect 
me  to  take  care  of  you  any  longer.  You  can  turn  a  hand- 
mill,  and  that  is  all  you  are  good  for — and  there  may  be  some 
one  stupid  enough  to  pay  a  few  drachmas  for  you. " 

"  Do  not  sell  me,"  groaned  the  slave,  lifting  his  hands  im- 
ploringly; but  Keraunus  did  not  listen,  and  went  on  scolding: 

"  Even  a  dog  is  faithful  to  his  master;  but  you  only  eat  him 
poor,  and  when  he  needs  your  service  you  only  think  of  rmi- 
ning  the  streets. " 

"  I  will  stay  at  home,"  howled  the  old  slave. 

"  Do  what  you  please.  You  have  been  for  a  long  time  only 
like  a  lame  horse,  which  makes  its  rider  a  sport  for  the  chil- 
dren. When  you  go  out  with  me  j^eople  look  after  us,  as  if 
you  were  a  spot  on  my  pallium.  And  the  scabby  dog  wishes 
to  keep  the  feast,  and  make  himself  great  among  the  citizens!" 

"  I  will  stay  at  home,  only  do  not  sell  me,"  whined  the 
anxious  creature,  and  tried  to  seize  his  master's  hand;  but 
Keraunus  repulsed  him,  and  bade  him  go  to  the  kitchen  and 
light  the  fire,  and  pour  water  over  the  old  woman  to  restore 
her  senses. 


174  THE   EMPEROR. 

The  slave  shoved  liis  companion  through  the  door,  and 
Keraunus  went  to  wake  Arsinoe. 

In  lier  room  there  was  no  light  except  that  which  fell 
through  an  02)eniug  in  the  roof.  The  slanting  beams  of  the 
morning  sun  rested  ui3on  the  bed  as  Keraunus  entered.  There 
lay  his  daughter  in  a  profound  sleep,  her  lovely  head  resting 
upon  her  right  arm,  the  long,  loose  tresses  of  soft  brown  hair 
falling  over  her  shoulders  and  down  the  side  of  the  bed. 
ller  loveliness  touched  his  heart,  reminding  him  of  his  de- 
ceased wife;  and  it  was  not  simi:)ly  idle  pride  but  a  movement 
of  sincere  fatherly  love  that  deepened  the  wish  of  his  soul  into 
a  silent  prayer  for  her  continued  life  and  happiness.  He  was 
not  accustomed  to  waken  her,  for  she  was  usually  up  long  be- 
fore himself,  and  he  felt  unwilling  to  disturb  her  sweet  sleep; 
but  it  was  necessary,  so  he  called  her  by  name,  shook  her,  and 
said,  as  she  at  last  opened  her  eyes  in  surprise: 

"  It  is  I;  get  up — remember  what  is  to  come  to-day!" 

"  Yes,^'  she  said,  yawning,  "  but  it  is  still  too  early." 

"  Early?"  answered  Keraunus,  laugliing.  "  My  stomach 
asserts  the  contrary.  The  sun  is  already  high,  and  I  have  not 
yet  had  my  soup. " 

"  Let  the  slave  cook  it. " 

"  No,  no,  child;  you  must  get  up.  Have  you  forgotten 
whom  you  are  to  personate?  And  my  curls,  and  the  prefect's 
wife,  and  your  new  garments?" 

*'  Let  them  all  go.  I  do  not  care  in  the  least  for  the  Roxana 
and  the  whole  jserf ormance. " 

"  Because  you  are  only  half  awake,"  said  Keraunus,  laugh- 
ing.    "  How  came  that  ivy  leaf  in  your  hair?" 

Arsinoe  blushed,  felt  after  it,  and  said,  reluctantly: 

"  Caught  from  some  tendril,  probably.  But  now  go,  that  I 
may  get  up." 

"  Yes,  in  a  moment.     How  did  you  find  Selene?" 

"  Not  so  badly  off  as  I  feared,  but  I  will  tell  you  more  after- 
ward; now  I  want  to  be  alone." 

When  half  an  hour  later  she  brought  the  soup  to  her  father, 
he  looked  at  her  in  surprise.  A  change  seemed  to  have  come 
over  liis  daughter.  There  was  a  light  in  her  eyes  he  had  never 
before  remaj-ked,  and  in  her  expression  something  so  striking 
as  almost  to  frighten  him. 

While  Arsinoe  stirred  the  soup,  Koi-aunus,  with  the  help  of 
the  slave,  had  taken  the  children  from  their  beds,  and  now 
they  sat  at  the  breakfast-table.  Among  tiiem  was  the  blind 
boy,  fresh  and  well. 

Arsinoe  told  them  of  Selene  and  of  the  excellent  nursing  sh« 


THE  EMPEROR.  l'^5 

received  in  the  house  of  Hannah.  While  she  spoke  Keraunus 
gazed  at  her  fixedly,  and  she  asked  impatiently  if  there  was 
anything  imusual  in  her  appearance.  And  he  answered,  shak- 
ing his  head: 

"  How  strange  you  girls  are!  The  jDride  and  joy  you  felt  in 
your  selection  yesterday  to  act  the  part  of  Alexander's  bride, 
has  changed  your  looks  in  one  night,  but  it  is  certainly  not 
to  your  disadvantage." 

"  Nonsense!"  exclaimed  Arsinoe,  blushing,  and  throwing 
herself  upon  the  divan.  She  was  not  exactly  weary,  but  ex- 
perienced a  lassitude  that  was  by  no  means  disagreeable.  She 
seemed  to  have  just  come  out  of  a  tepid  bath,  and  the  merry 
music  of  the  night  before  was  constantly  ringing  in  her  ears. 
Sometimes  she  laughed,  sometimes  stared  into  vacancy,  and 
thought  if  her  lover  should  call  her  to  dance  with  him  again 
she  would  not  have  the  will  to  resist. 

After  breakfast  was  over  and  the  slave  had  taken  the  chil- 
dren into  the  open  air,  and  Arsinoe  had  begun  to  curl  her 
father's  hair,  Keraunus  assumed  an  air  of  utmost  dignity  and 
said: 

"My  child!" 

The  girl  let  the  hot  iron  drop  and  asked,  expecting  one  of 
those  extravagances  which  Selene  was  accustomed  to  oppose : 
"Well?'^ 

"  Listen  to  me  attentively. " 

That  which  was  about  to  be  spoken  had  in  reality  occurred 
to  him  only  an  hour  before,  while  destroying  the  happiness  of 
his  old  slave,  and,  he  said,  knitting  Ms  brows  with  the  air  of  a 
sage  pliilosopher : 

"  For  a  long  time  I  have  been  thinking  of  something  that  I 
have  decided  to  tell  you.     We  must  have  a  new  slave. " 

"But,  father, "  cried  Arsinoe,  "think  what  it  will  cost  to 
2irovide  for  another  man — " 

"  It  is  not  a  question  of  that  sort,"  broke  in  Keraunus.  "  I 
shall  exchange  the  old  one  for  a  younger  that  will  not  be  a 
disgrace  to  us.  I  said  to  you  yesterday  that  in  the  future  we 
must  expect  to  attract  more  attention,  and  if  we  take  this 
black  scarecrow  with  us  on  the  street  or  wherever  we  ajjpcar — " 

"  Certainly  we  can  not  make  any  display  with  Sebek," 
broke  in  Arsinoe,  "  but  we  can  leave  him  at  home." 

"Child,  child,"  returned  Keraunus,  reproachfully,  "will 
you  then  never  consider  who  we  are?  How  could  we  aj^pear 
on  the  street  without  slaves?" 

The  girl  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  reminded  her  lather 
that  he  was  an  old  inmate,  that  the  children  doted  on  him. 


176  THE  EMPEROR. 

and  that  he  was  very  careful  of  tliem,  that  a  new  slave  would 
cost  much  money,  and  without  most  uncomfortable  use  of 
authority  could  not  be  constrained  to  perform  many  duties 
which  the  old  man  did  Avillingly  and  well.  But  she  spoke  to 
deaf  ears.  Safe  from  the  remonstrances  of  Selene,  and  im- 
patient of  opposition  as  a  reckless  boy,  Kerauuus  obstinately 
persisted  in  his  determination  to  exchange  the  faithful  old 
fellow  for  a  more  showy  servant.  He  did  not  for  a  moment 
think  of  the  sad  fate  of  the  old  slave  who  had  grown  gray  in 
his  house.  His  only  hesitation  was  about  using  the  last  money 
in  their  possession  for  something  not  really  necessary.  Since 
Arsinoe  had  been  chosen  to  personate  Koxaiia  he  expected  to 
be  able  to  borrow  once  more,  and  he  thought  it  his  duty  to 
appear  well,  not  to  frighten  away  that  son-in-law  of  his 
dreams.  In  case  of  extremity  he  always  expected  to  fall  back 
on  his  collection  of  rarities.  If  the  false  sword  of  Antony 
brought  in  so  much,  what  might  not  some  lover  of  relics  pay 
for  the  genuine?    It  only  remained  to  find  the  right  purchaser. 

Arsinoe  turned  from  red  to  white  as  her  father  repeatedly 
returned  to  her  bargain,  but  she  did  not  venture  to  tell  him 
the  truth,  and  repented  her  deception  the  more  sincerely  as 
her  own  native  good  sense  showed  her  the  more  plainly  that 
the  honor  conferred  upon  her  yesterday  threatened  to  lead  the 
weaknesses  of  her  father  on  to  some  fatal  issue. 

It  was  enough  for  her  to-day  to  know  that  Pollux  loved  her, 
and  she  would  have  yielded  every  claim  to  the  part,  which 
yesterday  seemed  so  valuable,  wdthout  a  shadow  of  regret. 
Tliis  feeling  she  expressed,  but  her  father  did  not  believe  her 
in  earnest,  and  laughed  in  her  face,  amused  himself  with  ob- 
scure allusions  to  the  riches  that  would  not  fail  to  come  to 
them  through  her;  and  because  dimly  conscious  that  it  would 
be  well  for  him  to  show  that  he  was  not  actuated  by  idleness 
and  vanity,  he  declared  himself  willing  to  make  a  great  per- 
soiial  sacrifice  and  wear  for  awhile  longer  the  gilded  fillet. 
Through  such  an  act  of  self-denial  he  thought  himself  fully 
justified  in  spending  a  large  sum  to  procure  a  better-looking 
slave.  Besides,  he  had  fully  persuaded  himself  that  the  outlay 
was  a  necessity. 

Arsinoe's  prayers  were  imheeded,  and  when,  through  sym- 
pathy for  the  jDoor  old  man  she  began  to  wee]),  he  forbade  her 
angrily  to  shed  tears  over  such  an  insignificant  affair.  He 
thought  it  childish;  besides  that,  he  did  not  wish  to  have  her 
go  witli  red  eyes  to  the  wife  of  the  prefect. 

During  this  conversation  his  curls  M'ere  all  in  order,  and  he 
commanded  Arsinoe  to  arrange  her  own  haii",  and  then  go  with 


THE  EMPEROR.  177 

him  to  purchase  the  new  gown  and  peplum,  visit  Selene,  and 
then  meet  her  engagement  with  Julia,  the  wife  of  Titianus.  . 

Yesterday  it  had  seemed  to  him  a  little  extravagant  to  hire 
a  sedan,  but  to-day  he  suggested  a  more  pretentious  vehicle. 
When  left  alone  another  thought  occurred  to  him.  The  arro- 
gant architect  ought  to  know  that  he  was  not  the  man  to  let 
himself  be  annoyed  and  insulted  without  calling  down  punish- 
ment. Therefore  he  cut  a  strip  of  papyrus  from  a  letter  he 
liad  preserved  in  his  chest,  and  wa-ote  upon  it  the  following 
words : 

"  Keraunus,  the  Macedonian,  to  Claudius  Venator,  Roman 
architect:  My  eldest  daughter,  Selene,  has  been,  through  your 
fault,  so  seriously  injured  that  she  lies  now  in  great  pain  and 
danger.  My  other  children  are  no  longer  safe  in  their  father's 
house.  I  insist  upon  your  plachig  the  dog  in  chains.  If  you 
decline  this  reasonable  demand  I  shall  put  my  case  into  the 
hands  of  the  emperor.  I  also  make  known  to  you  that  circum- 
stances have  arisen  which  will  lead  Hadrian  to  jjunish  every 
act  of  insolence  toward  me  and  my  daughters. " 

After  sealing  this  letter,  Keraunus  called  the  slave,  and  said, 
coldly: 

"  Take  this  to  the  Eoman  architect,  and  then  order  two 
sedans.  Make  haste;  and  while  we  are  absent  take  good  care 
of  the  children.  To-morrow  or  next  day  you  will  be  sold. 
Do  you  ask  to  whom?  That  will  depend  on  your  own  conduct 
during  the  last  hours  of  your  service  here." 

The  black  fellow  uttered  a  heart-rending  cry,  and  threw 
himself  down  before  the  overseer.  Truly  the  cry  pierced  his 
soul,  but  he  was  determined  not  to  show  himself  touched,  and 
also  to  send  him  away.  But  the  slave  clasped  his  knees,  and, 
as  the  children,  drawn  to  the  spot  by  his  cries,  wept  aloud  with 
him,  and  the  little  Helios  began  to  stroke  his  bald  head,  the 
vain  man  felt  himself  moved,  and  to  guard  against  his  own 
weakness,  cried,  vehemently: 

"  Out  with  you,  and  do  what  you  are  told,  or  I  will  have 
you  scourged!" 

And  he  tore  himself  away  from  the  unhappy  creature,  who, 
with  sunken  head,  left  the  room,  going  to  the  door  of  Hadrian 
with  the  letter.  Overawed  by  the  emperor  on  the  former  oc- 
casion, he  dared  not  knock. 

After  waiting  a  long  time,  with  tears  in  his  eyes.  Master  ap- 

{)eared,  bearing  an  empty  breakfast-tray.     He  held  out  the 
etter,  saying: 
**  This  is  from  Keraunus  to  your  master." 


178  THE   EMPEROR. 

''Place  it  upon  the  tray,"  replied  the  Jazygeau.  "But 
what  has  hurt  you,  my  old  friend?  You  seem  to  feel  badly. 
Have  you  been  beaten?'' 

**  Xo/'  whined  the  slave.    "  Keraunus  is  going  to  sell  me. " 

"  There  are  better  masters  than  Keraunus.  " 

*'  But  Sebek  is  old,  Sebek  is  weak;  Sebek  can  no  longer  Uft 
or  drag;  the  heavy  work  will  kill  Sebek." 

"  Have  you  then  had  such  light  service  and  bountiful  provis- 
ion with  the  overseer?" 

*'  ISlo  wine,  no  meat,  much  hunger,"  said  the  old  man, 
piteously. 

"  Then  you  ought  to  be  glad  to  get  away." 

"  No,  no,"  groaned  the  slave. 

*'  You  are  an  odd  fellow,"  returned  Mastor.  "  "Why  do  you 
want  to  stay  with  the  niggard?" 

For  some  time  Sebek  was  silent,  then  he  sobbed,  while  his 
sunken  chest  heaved  with  the  violence  of  his  emotion : 

"It  is  the  children — the  children — our  little  ones.  They 
are  so  dear,  and  our  Helios,  our  little  blind  boy,  has  stroked 
my  hair  when  he  heard  I  must  go — just  there,"  and  he  jjoint- 
ed  to  the  spot,  "  I  felt  liis  little  hand.  And  now  Sebek  will 
see  them  all  no  more  than  if  they  were  dead. " 

These  words  rolled  down  like  heavy  bodies,  starting  a  flood 
of  tears.  They  touched  the  heart  of  Mastor,  wakening  in  him 
the  memory  of  his  own  lost  cliildren,  and  also  a  wish  to  com- 
fort his  fellow-slave. 

"  Poor  fellow,"  he  said,  compassionately.  "  Yes,  the  chil- 
dren. They  are  little,  and  the  door  into  one's  heart  is  nar- 
row, and  they  skip  through  a  hundred  times  easier  than  the 
grown  people.  I  have  lost  dear  children,  and  they  were  my 
own.  I  can  teach  any  one  wdiat  pain  is,  but  I  know  now  where 
there  is  comfort  also." 

And  supporting  the  tray  upon  his  hip  and  one  hand,  he  laid 
the  other  on  the  shoulder  of  the  slave,  whispering: 

"  Have  you  hoard  of  the  Christians?" 

Sebek  nodded  eagerly,  as  though  something  of  which  he  had 
already  learned  much  and  expected  more,  were  mentioned; 
but  Mastor  added: 

"  Come  to-morrow  morning  before  sunrise  to  the  plasterers 
in  the  court,  and  you  will  hear  of  one  who  comforts  the  weary 
and  heavy  laden. " 

Mastor  lifted  the  tray  and  went  on;  but  out  of  the  eyes  of 
the  old  slave  glimmered  a  faint  beam  of  hope.  He  had  no 
large  expectations,  but  thought  there  might  perhaps  be  a 
means  of  bearing  tjie  troubles  of  life  more  easily. 


THE   EMPEKOK.  179 

Master  passed  the  tray  to  the  kitchen  slaves,  and  went  back 
to  deliver  the  letter. 

The  time  was  unfavorable  to  Keraunus,  for  the  emperor  was 
in  a  gloomy  mood.  He  had  been  awake  until  day-break,  and 
took  then  only  three  hours  of  rest.  Still  he  bent  with  knitted 
brows  over  the  astronomical  tablets,  comparing  them  with  his 
observations  of  the  preceding  night;  but  they  did  not  satisfy 
him,  for  he  shook  his  head  discontentedly.  Once  he  leaned 
back  in  his  easy-chair,  covering  his  eyes  with  both  hands,  and 
went  over  the  calculations  again,  with  a  result  that  pleased 
him  no  better.  The  letter  of  Keraunus  lay  long  unnoticed. 
At  length,  for  the  sake  of  changing  the  current  of  thought, 
Hadrian  tore  it  open,  read,  and  cast  it  disdainfully  aside.  At 
another  time  he  would  have  heard  of  Selene's  suffering  with 
hearty  sympathy,  and  laughed  at  the  peculiarities  of  her  father, 
devising  some  reply  that  would  tease  or  frighten  him.  But 
this  morning  the  threatening  words  only  excited  his  anger  and 
increased  his  feeling  of  antipathy  to  Keraimus.  Impatient  of 
the  silence  that  reigned  in  the  apartment,  he  called  Antinous, 
who  stood  looking  out  dreamily  over  the  harbor.  The  favorite 
came  immediately  to  his  side.  Glancing  at  Antinous^s  face, 
he  said: 

"  You,  too,  look  as  if  threatened  by  misfortune.  Is  the  sky 
entirely  clouded?'' 

"  No,  sire.  It  is  blue  above  the  sea,  but  clouds  are  gather- 
ing in  the  south. " 

"  In  the  south?"  asked  Hadrian,  thoughtfully.  ''  From  that 
direction  we  scarcely  anticipate  evil.  But  it  is  coming  fast, 
and  will  be  here  before  we  tliink  of  it. " 

"  You  were  so  long  awake,  and  that  has  spoiled  your  mood. " 

"The 'mood'?  What  is  that?"  murmured  Hadrian  to 
himself.  '*  It  is  a  condition  wherein  all  the  emotions  of  the 
soul  are  taken  possession  of  at  the  same  time  by  the  same 
cause.     To-day  my  heart  is  paralyzed  with  apprehension." 

"  Have  you  seen  bad  tokens  in  the  sky?" 

'*'  The  very  worst  possible." 

**  You  wise  men  beheve  in  the  stars,"  said  Antinous.  "  No 
doubt  you  are  right,  but  my  weak  head  can  not  comprehend 
what  their  regular  course  can  have  to  do  with  my  restless 
going  to  and  fro." 

"  Wait  until  you  are  gray,"  answered  the  emperor.  "  Learn 
to  comjDrehend  all  before  you  speak  of  these  things,  for  then 
only  can  you  understand  that  every  part  of  the  creation — the 
greatest  and  the  smallest  are  inwardly  knit  together — work 
through  and  are  dependent  upon  each  other.     What  is,  and 


IgO  THE    EMPEROR. 

what  niav  ho  in  nature,  -whatever  men  feel,  think,  and  do,  is 
conditioned  uj^on  lirmly  established  eternal  causes,  and  spirits 
standing  between  us  and  the  godhead  indicate  them  in  golden 
characteis  upon  the  blue  vault  above.  The  stars  are  the  let- 
ters in  this  writing,  whose  paths  are  as  immutable  as  the 
causes  of  all  which  is  and  happens. " 

"  Are  you  sure  never  to  mistake  this  writing?"  asked  An- 
tinous.  .     . 

"  I  am  liable  to  error,"  answered  Hadrian;  "  but  this  time 
I  am  not  deceived.  A  heavy  misfortune  threatens  me.  There 
is  a  pecidiarly  portentous  and  remarkable  combination." 

"  What  is  it?" 

"  I  have  received  the  words  of  an  oracle  from  that  cursed 
Antioch— whence  nothing  good  ever  came  to  me,  which — 
AVhy  should  I  keep  it  secret  from  you?  In  the  middle  of  this 
coming  year  a  heavy  misfortune  will  smite  me,  as  the  light- 
ning smites  a  traveler  to  the  earth,  and  this  very  night — 
Look  with  me  at  this  tablet.  Here  is  the  house  of  death, 
here  are  the  planets — but  what  do  you  understand  of  such 
things?  To  be  brief,  in  this  night,  already  preceded  by  one 
shocking  event,  the  stars  have  confirmed  the  oracle  as  unmis- 
takably as  if  they  had  tongues  and  screeched  the  prophecy  of 
evil  in  my  ears.  Such  a  prospect  is  gloomy.  And  what  may 
the  next  year  bring?" 

Hadrian  sighed,  but  Antinous  approached  nearer,  dropped 
on  one  knee,  and  said,  in  a  child-like  and  modest  tone: 

"  May  I,  poor  foolish  wight,  teach  the  great,  wise  man  how 
to  enrich  his  life  with  six  good  months?" 

Hadrian. smiled  as  if  he  knew  what  was  coming,  but  An- 
tinous kept  on,  courageously: 

"  Let  the  future  remain  future,  and  what  must  come,  let 
come;  for  even  the  gods  have  no  control  over  destiny.  When 
evil  approaches,  it  casts  a  black  shadow  forward.  This  you 
look  at,  and  allow  it  to  darken  the  present  bright  day;  I  go  on 
my  way  in  careless  dreaming,  and  only  notice  the  misfortune 
when  we  come  into  contact — when  it  strikes  upon  me. " 

''And  so  you  are  spared  many  dark  days,"  broke  in 
Hadrian. 

"  That  is  what  I  wanted  to  say. " 

"  And  the  counsel  is  good  for  yom  and  all  other  pleasure 
promenaders  through  the  Fair  of  idle  life,"  answered  Hadrian; 
"but  he  to  wlioni  it  is  appointed  to  guide  millions  over  a 
chasm  must  keej)  his  eye  steadily  fixed — looking  both  at  the 
near  and  the  distant,  and  dares  not  close  them  even  against 
the  horrors  I  was  destined  to  see  last  night." 


THE   EMPEROR.  181 

During  these  last  words  Phlegon,  the  private  secretary  of 
Hadrian,  entered,  bringing  letters  from  Kome.  He  bowed 
profoundly  and  asked: 

"  Do  the  stars  disturb  you,  Caesar?" 

"  They  teach  me  to  be  on  my  guard,'"  returned  the  em- 
peror. 

"  Let  us  hope  that  they  lie,"  cried  the  Greek,  with  liveli- 
,ness.  "  Cicero  was  certainly  not  altogether  wrong  in  distrust- 
ing the  science  of  astrology. " 

"  He  was  a  mere  babbler,''  answered  Hadrian,  with  frown- 
ing brow. 

"  But  is  it  not  then  trne  that  a  Cnieus,  and  a  Cains,  who 
were  accidentally  born  in  the  same  hour,  will  have  the  same 
disposition,  and  must  meet  the  same  fate?" 

"  Always  the  old  commonplace,  the  same  old  nonsense!" 
broke  in  Hadrian,  excited  almost  to  rage.  "  Speak  when  you 
are  spoken  to,  and  do  not  trouble  yourself  about  things  you  do 
not  understand  and  that  do  not  concern  you.  Is  there  any- 
thing important  among  the  letters?" 

Antinous  looked  in  surprise  at  the  emperor.  Why  was  he 
angered  by  Phlegon's  objections,  when  he  had  given  such 
friendly  answers  to  his  own? 

Hadrian  paid  no  more  attention  to  him  at  present,  but  read 
his  letters  and  dispatches  with  attention — wrote  short  notes  on 
the  margins,  signed  a  decree,  and  dismissed  the  Greek. 

Scarcely  had  he  left  when  the  joyful  shout  of  many  voices 
was  heard  through  the  open  window. 

"  What  does  that  mean?"  he  asked  of  Mastor,  and  learning 
that  the  workmen  and  slaves  had  just  been  dismissed  to  share 
in  the  pleasures  of  the  feast-day,  he  said  to  liimself : 

"  The  people  are  making  merry,  putting  on  crowns,  and  for- 
getting themselves  in  intoxication — and  I — whom  they  all 
envy — I  destroy  the  short  period  of  life  with  insignificant 
affairs,  let  myself  be  devoured  by  gnawing  care — " 

Here  he  stopped  and  cried  out,  in  a  changed  tone : 

"  Antinous,  you  are  wiser  than  I  am.  Let  us  leave  the  fut- 
ure to  itself.  Let  us  also  enjoy  the  feast.  We,  too,  will  use 
the  day  of  freedom.  We  will  go  well  masked.  I,  as  an  old 
satyr,  you,  as  a  young  faun,  or  something  of  that  sort,  and 
plunge  into  the  festal  whirlpool — empty  our  cups — wander 
through  the  city,  and  enjoy  all  the  merriment." 

"  Oh,"   cried  Antinous,  cla])ping  his  hands  in  joy. 

"  Evoe  Bacche!"  cried  lladriun, "swinging  a  goblet  that  stood 
on  the  table.  "  You  are  free  until  evening,  Mastor;  and  you, 
Antinous,  must  ask  the  tall  sculptor  Pollux  to  conduct  us  and 


1S2  THE   EMPER0R. 

provide  our  wreaths  and  finery.  I  want  to  see  the  drunkards 
ami  laugh  with  the  jolly  before  I  am  emperor  again.  Hasten, 
my  friend,  before  new  cares  come  to  interrupt  my  sport!" 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

Antinous  and  Mastor  left  the  emperor  at  once.  In  the 
jiassage  he  beckoned  to  Mastor,  and  said,  in  a  low  tone: 

'*  I  know  you  can  keep  a  secret.     AVill  you  do  me  a  favor?" 

''  I  Avould  rather  do  three  than  one,"  answered  the  Jazygean. 

"  You  are  free  for  to-day.     Are  you  going  into  the  city?" 

"I  think  so." 

"  You  are  not  familiar  here,  but  that  makes  no  difference. 
Take  these  gold  pieces.  With  one  of  them  buy  the  handsomest 
bunch  of  flowers  in  the  market.  Make  yourself  merry  with 
the  second,  and  take  a  few  draclmias  from  the  third  to  liire  a 
mule.  Let  the  driver  conduct  you  to  the  garden  of  the  widow 
of  Pudens,  in  which  is  the  house  of  one  Hannah,  a  widow. 
Have  3'ou  got  the  name?" 

"  Hannah,  widow  of  Pudens." 

"  In  the  little  house — not  the  great  one — you  are  to  deliver 
the  flowers  for  the  sick  girl,  Selene. " 

''  The  daughter  of  the  fat  overseer,  vvhom  our  Molossian  at- 
tacked?" 

"She,  or  another,"  broke  in  Antinous.  "If  you  are 
asked  who  sent  the  flowers,  say:  '  The  friend  on  the  Lochias/ 
and  nothing  more.     Do  you  understand?" 

The  slave  nodded,  saying,  in  a  low  tone: 

"  And  you  also?     Oh,  these  women!" 

Antinous  motioned  him  to  silence,  repeated  rapidly  his  direc- 
tions, and  went  to  the  Hall  of  the  Muses  to  find  Pollux. 
Through  Pollux  he  had  learned  where  Selene  w^as  lying  sick, 
of  wliom  he  thought  incessantly. 

Pollux  was  not  in  his  usual  cage. 

The  desire  to  talk  with  his  mother  had  led  him  to  the  gate- 
house, and  now  he  was  standing  before  her,  with  liis  long  arms 
in  vivacious  motion,  relating  the  events  of  the  previous  night. 
His  story  was  like  a  song  of  joy,  and  Doris  sprung  up,  clapping 
her  little  fat  hands  and  crying: 

*'  That  was  fun!  Thirty  years  ago  I  had  the  same  sport  with 
your  father." 

"  Not  only  thirty  years  ago,"  answered  Pollux.  "  I  remem- 
ber very  well  when  you,  at  the  great  Dionysian  feast,  seized  by 
the  j)()wer  of  the  god,  rushed  nuidly  through  the  streets,  with 
the  deer-skin  over  your  shoulders. " 


The  emperoe.  1^3 

_"  Oh,  yes,  that  was  good,  that  was  dehghtful,^'  cried  Dw-is, 
with  shining  eyes.  "But  thirty  years  ago  it  was  quite  differ- 
ent. I  have  already  told  you  how  I  went  with  our  maid 
through  the  Canopic  way  to  see  the  procession  from  the  house 
of  my  aimt  Archidike.  It  was  not  far,  for  we  lived  near,  the 
theater.  My  father  was  stage-overseer,  and  yours  one  of  the 
chief  singers  in  tlie  choir.  We  went  as  fast  as  we  could,  but 
the  crowd  kept  us  back,  and  some  drimken  fellows  tried  to 
jest  with  me."' 

"  You  also  were  as  handsome  as  a  rose,"'  broke  in  her  son. 

"Only  as  a  very  little  bud;  not  like  your  beautiful  rose," 
returned  the  old  woman.  ' '  I  looked  so  well  that  the  young 
fellows,  disguised  as  satyrs  and  fauns,  and  the  cynical  hypocrites, 
under  their  ragged  mantles,  thought  it  worth  their  while  to 
look  at  me,  and  so  brought  upon  themselves  some  rebuffs  when 
they  tried  to  entice  me  out,  or  to  steal  a  kiss.  I  was  not  at- 
tracted by  handsome  fellows,  for  Euphorion  had  already  wooed 
me  with  his  eyes,  though  I  was  kept  very  strictly,  and  up  to 
that  time  we  had  never  exchanged  a  word.  At  the  corner  of 
the  Canopic  way  and  Emporium  Street  we  were  forced  to  stop, 
for  there  the  yelling  and  hallooing  crowd  was  packed  about  the 
wild  Klododen  women,  who,  with  other  priestesses  of  Bacchus 
in  a  sacred  frenzy,  were  tearing  a  ram  with  their  teeth.  This 
was  a  horrible  sight,  but  I  was  forced  to  see  it,  and  I  shouted 
and  cried  with  the  others.  My  maid,  to  whom  I  clung,  was 
seized  by  the  frenzy  and  dragged  me  into  the  circle  directly  be- 
fore the  bloody  offering.  Then  two  frantic  women  sprung 
upon  us.  One  of  them  seized  and  tried  to  pull  me  down.  It 
was  a  frightful  moment,  but  I  held  up  bravely  and  was  still 
on  my  feet,  when  your  father  sprung  forward  and  bore  me 
away.  What  further  happened  I  can  not  relate.  It  was  all  a 
blissful  dream,  in  which  one  must  press  both  hands  on  the 
heart  to  keep  it  from  bursting,  or  flying  straight  up  toward 
the  heaven  and  into  the  midst  of  the  sun.  It  was  very  late 
when  I  reached  home,  and  within  a  few  weeks  I  became  the 
wife  of  Euphorion.'" 

"  We  have  only  imitated  you,"  cried  Pollux,  "  and  if  Arsinoe 
become  like  my  old  mother,  I  shall  be  well  contented.  ■" 

"Be  cheerful  and  hajjpy,"  returned  Doris.  "Keep  your 
health.  Snap  your  fingers  at  trouble  and  care;  be  faithful  in 
all  common  duties;  and  on  every  feast-day  drink  a  merry  cuji 
to  the  honor  of  the  god,  and  all  will  go  well.  Who  does  what- 
ever he  can,  and  enjoys  all  that  is  possible,  has  put  life  to  its 
best  uses,  and  needs  feel  no  remorse  in  the  last  hour.    By-gono 


184  THE   EMPEROR. 

is  by-LTono,  and  wlicn  Atropus  cuts  the  thread,  others  will  step 
into  our  ])iacos,  and  the  joy  will  begin  again." 

"  You  are  right,"  said  Pollux,  embracing  his  mother;  "  and 
is  it  not  true  that  toil  is  hghter  and  life  happier  when  two  are 
together?" 

*'  I  think  so,  and  that  you  have  chosen  the  proper  compan* 
ion.  As  a  sculptor  jou  have  been  accustomed  to  living  simply. 
You  do  not  need  riches,  but  the  daily  sight  of  beauty  to  refresh 
your  spirit,  and  that  you  have  found." 

"  There  is  no  fairer,"  broke  in  Pollux. 

*'  No,  certainly  not,"  continued  Doris.  "  At  first  I  had  my 
eye  on  Selene.  She  also  is  good  looking,  and  is  a  model  girl. 
But  of  late,  as  I  have  seen  Arsinoe  pass  here,  I  have  said  to 
myself:  '  She  is  growing  up  for  my  boy;'  and  now  that  you 
have  won  lier,  I  seem  to  have  gone  back  to  her  age.  The  old 
heart  within  me  is  as  merry  as  if  Eros  had  touched  it  with  his 
wings  and  liis  rosy  fingers.  And  if  my  feet  had  not  become  so 
heavy  over  the  cooking  hearth  and  the  wash-tub,  really  I 
should  seize  Euphorion  by  the  arm  and  dance  Avith  him  through 
the  streets. " 

"  Where  is  father?" 

"  He  has  gone  out  to  sing." 

"  In  the  morning!    Where  then?" 

"  There  is  a  sect  which  celebrates  its  mysteries  to-day. 
They  pay  him  Avell,  but  he  has  to  sing  sad  songs  behind  a  cur- 
tain, the  wildest  stuff,  of  wliich  he  understands  not  one  word, 
and  I  very  little." 

"  I  am  sorry,  for  I  want  to  speak  with  him." 

"  He  will  come  back  late." 

"  There  will  be  time." 

"  So  much  the  better;  otherwise,  I  could  repeat  it  to  him 
for  you. ' ' 

"  Y^our  counsel  will  be  as  good  as  his.  I  want  to  leave 
Papias  and  set  up  for  myself." 

"  That  is  right;  the  lloman  architect  assured  me  yesterday 
that  a  briglit  future  opens  before  you." 

"  I  hesitate  only  on  account  of  my  poor  sister  and  her  chil- 
dren.  If  it  should  go  poorly  with  me  in  the  first  few  months — " 

"  We  will  pull  them  through.  It  is  time  for  you  to  be  reap- 
ing what  you  have  sown. ' ' 

"  I  think  so,  both  for  my  own  sake  and  for  Arsinoe's;  if 
only  Keraunus — " 

"  Yes,  there  you  will  have  a  conflict.  " 

"  And  a  heavy  one,"  sighed  Pollux.  "  The  thought  of  that 
disturbs  my  joy." 


THE  EMPEKOR.  185 

"That  is  foolish/'  returned  Doris,  "and  only  a  useless 
anxiety,  wliich  is  almost  as  ruinous  as  remorse.  Get  your  own 
workshop,  and  do  something  there  with  a  cheerful  heart 
worthy  to  astonish  the  world,  and  I  will  warrant  that  the  silly 
old  fellow  will  be  sorry  not  to  bring  out  your  first  work  from 
his  collection  of  rarities — preserved  there  instead  of  having 
been  broken  to  pieces.  Go  right  on  and  enjoy  your  good  fort- 
une, just  as  if  he  were  not  in  the  world."' 

"  I  will  follow  your  advice.'' 

"  One  thing  more,  my  boy." 

"  What  is  that?" 

"  Jle  very  careful  of  Arsinoe!  She  is  young  and  inexperi- 
en.Lil.  and  you  must  not  ask  her  to  do  anything  that  you 
would  not  advise  if  she  were  the  bride  of  your  brother." 

Doris  had  scarcely  finished  when  Antinous  entered  the  gate- 
house, with  a  request  from  Claudius  Venator  that  he  would 
guide  him  about  the  city. 

Pollux  hesitated,  for  he  had  still  so  much  to  do  in  the  pal- 
ace, and  he  had  hoped  to  see  Arsinoe  again  in  the  course  of 
the  day.  What  could  an  afternoon  and  evening  without  her 
offer  after  such  a  morning? 

Doris  noticed  the  shrinking,  and  said : 

"  Go  and  enjoy  the  feast.  The  architect  can  give  you  good 
counsel,  and  introduce  you  to  some  of  his  friends." 

"  Your  mother  is  right,"  said  Antinous.  "  Claudius  Vena- 
tor is  appreciative,  and  can  also  be  grateful.  I  wish  you  suc- 
cess." 

"  I  will  go,"  answered  Pollux,  who  was  always  powerfully 
attracted  toward  Hadrian,  and  under  all  circumstances  wished 
a  share  in  the  festivity.  "But  I  must  first  make  knowTi  to 
Pontius  that  I  propose  to  desert  the  battle-field  for  a  few  hours 
to-day." 

' '  Leave  that  to  Venator, ' '  answered  Antinous.  ' '  And  please 
provide  for  him,  and  for  me,  and  also  for  yourself,  if  you  like, 
some  merry  costumes  and  masks.  He  will  be  a  satyr,  and  I 
want  some  other  disguise." 

"  Good,"  replied  Pollux.  "  I  will  bring  what  we  need  from 
our  workshop,  where  there  is  a  mass  of  finery  suitable  to  the 
followers  of  Dionysius.     I  will  be  back  again  in  half  an  hour. " 

"  Make  all  the  haste  possible,"  begged  Antinous,  "  for  my 
master  does  not  like  to  wait.  And  then — another  thing  " — 
Antinous  became  embarrassed,  and  stepping  close  to  Pollux, 
with  a  hand  on  his  shoulder,  suid,  in  a  low  tone,  and  impress- 
ively: "  Venator  is  very  intimate  with  the  emperor.  Be  on 
your  guard  as  to  what  you  say  of  Hadrian." 


186  THE  EMPEROR. 

"  Is  your  master  a  spy  of  the  Ca3sar?''  asked  Pollux,  look- 
inir  suspiciously  at  the  youth.  *'  Pontius  has  already  uttered 
a  similar  -warning;  and  if  that  be  the  case — " 

''No,  no/' broke  in  Antinous,  hastily;  "nothing  of  that 
sort:  but  they  have  no  secrets  from  one  another,  and  Venator 
speaks  very  freely  of  what  he  sees  and  hears.'' 

"  Thank  you.     I  will  be  on  my  guard." 

"  Do  so;  I  mean  it  seriously,"  and  the  handsome  features 
of  the  Bithynian  wore  an  expression  of  sensitive  delicacy,  and 
the  offering  of  his  hand  to  Pollux  was  done  with  such  an  in- 
describable grace  that  Doris  seized  the  arm  of  her  son,  exclaim- 
ing: 

"  Oh,  what  beauty!  Pollux,  my  boy,  one  might  believe  that 
a  heavenly  being  was  come  down  to  the  earth!" 

"  Look  at  my  old  mother!"  cried  Pollux,  laughing.  "  But 
honestly,  my  friend,  she  has  reason  to  be  enthusiastic,  and  I 
sympathize  with  her." 

"  Hold  him  fast,"  added  Doris.  "  If  he  will  allow  you  to 
make  his  bust,  you  would  have  something  to  show  the  world!" 

"  Will  you?"  broke  in  Pollux,  turning  to  Antinous. 

"  I  never  could  be  still  long  enough  to  satisfy  a  sculptor," 
answered  Antinous;  "  but  I  will  gladly  do  you  a  favor.  Only 
it  vexes  me  that  you  join  in  the  everlasting  commonplace  of 
the  others.     But  I  must  return  to  my  master." 

After  he  left  the  house,  Doris  said : 

"  I  can  not  judge  critically  a  Avork  of  art,  but  I  know  as  well 
as  any  other  Alexandrian  woman  what  is  handsome.  If  this 
boy  will  consent  to  become  your  model  you  can  make  somc- 
tliing  to  charm  all  the  men  and  turn  the  heads  of  the  women. 
Great  gods!  I  feel  as  if  I  had  been  drinking  wine.  8ucli 
beauty  is  of  the  rarest !  Why  is  thei'e  not  some  means  of  pre- 
serving such  a  figure  and  such  a  face  from  old  age  and  from 
wrinkles?" 

"  I  know  one,  mother, "  returned  Pollux,  as  he  went  through 
tin;  door-way,  "  and  that  is  Art.  That  can  give  undying  youth 
to  this  mortal  Adonis. " 

The  old  woman  looked  after  her  son  Avith  an  emotion  of 
pride,  assenting  to  his  remark  with  an  emphatic  nod.  While 
she  fed  her  birds  with  many  a  caressing  epithet,  and  let  her 
Bj)ccial  favorites  take  crumbs  of  bread  from  her  lips,  the  young 
sculptor  hasteiied  with  long  strides  through  the  street.  Many 
an  "  All!"  or  un  "  Oh!"  edioing. behind  testified  to  the  vigor- 
ous arm  jiusliing  its  way  among  the  crowd.  But  he  lieard 
them  faintly,  for  his  thoughts  were  absorbed  with  Arsinoe,  or 


THE  EMPEROE.  187 

an  occasional  one  of  Antinons,  and  the  position  in  which  the 
bust  should  represent  him — whether  as  a  hero  or  a  god. 

By  the  flower-market,  close  beside  the  Gymnasium,  he  was 
recalled  to  a  sense  of  his  actual  surroundings  by  a  curious  pict- 
ure. Upon  a  very  small  black  donkey  sat  a  very  large  black 
slave,  well  dressed,  and  carrying  in  his  hand  a  great  bunch  of 
handsome  flowers.  Beside  him  walked  a  profusely  garlanded 
and  gayly  attired  man,  wearing  a  comical  mask,  and  followed 
by  two  gigantic  garden  gods  and  four  smartly  dressed  boys. 
In  the  slave  Pollux  recognized  the  servant  of  Venator,  and  he 
was  quite  sure  of  having  before  seen  the  masked  gentleman, 
but  did  not  remember  where,  and  took  no  trouble  to  find  out; 
for  after  a  glance  at  the  striking  group  he  j^assed  on,  thinking 
of  the  things  that  lay  nearer  to  his  heart.  Perhaps  the  don- 
•  key -rider  found  himself  forced  to  listen  to  something  mipleas- 
ant,  for  liis  eye  rested  anxiously  upon  the  flowers.  And  this 
was  a  well-grounded  anxiety,  for  the  man  walking  beside  him 
was  no  less  a  person  than  the  Roman  Pretor  Verus,  whom  the 
Alexandrians  called  "  the  false  Eros." 

Having  recognized  Master  immediately,  whom  he  had  often 
seen  with  the  emperor,  he  naturally  leaped  to  the  conclusion 
that  Hadrian  was  in  Alexandria,  and  he  was  plying  the  slave 
with  adroit  questions.  As  Master  attempted  stoutly  to  avoid 
answering,  Verus  thought  best  to  introduce  himself;  and  be- 
fore the  great  lord  and  special  friend  of  the  empress.  Master 
lost  his  caution.  He  becaue  entangled  in  contradictions,  and 
though  not  actually  confessing  the  fact,  Verus  became  con- 
vinced that  Hadrian  was  not  far  oil. 

And  the  flowers  in  the  hand  of  this  slave — naturally  they  did 
not  belong  to  him — where  then  was  their  destination? 

Verus  began  again  to  put  questions;  but  Master  betrayed 
nothing,  until  Verus,  touching  him  lightly,  first  upon  one  and 
then  u23on  the  other  cheek,  said  pleasantly: 

"  Good  little  Master,  listen  to  me.  I  have  some  propositions 
to  make,  and  if  any  one  of  them  pleases  you,  you  have  only  to 
bow  your  head  in  imison  with  that  of  the  twice  two-footed  ani- 
mal you  are  riding. "" 

"Let  me  go  on  my  way,"  begged  the  Jazygean,  within- 
creasing  anxiety. 

"  Go  on,  if  you  wish,  but  I  shall  follow  until  I  find  out  what 
I  want.  There  are  many  devices  in  tliis  head,  as  you  will 
learn.  As  the  first,  I  ask:  Shall  I  seek  out  your  master  and 
tell  him  that  you  have  betrayed  to  me  his  presence  in  Alexan- 
dria?" 
^  *'  That  you  will  not  do,  sir/'  cried  the  slaye^ 


188  THE   EMPEROR. 

"Well,  tlicn:  Shall  I  liung  about  you  with  my  followers 
until  ui^rlit  coiu])!.'!  you  to  return  to  your  master? 

"  Tliat  motion  of  the  hand  expresses  your  02)imon  on  tills 
j)oint,  and  you  are  right;  for  the  carrying  out  of  this  projiosi- 
tion  would  be  as  little  pleasing  to  me  as  to  yourself,  and  would 
bring  the  special  notice  of  the  crowd  niwn  you.  Whisper 
then,  in  my  ear,  where  the  emperor  is  lodged,  and  from  whom 
and  to  whom  you  are  carrying  these  flowers.  As  soon  as  you 
accommodate  yourself  to  this  proposition  I  shall  let  you  go, 
and  prove  to  you  that  I  am  as  lavish  of  my  gold  in  Africa  as  I 
was  in  Italy." 

"  No  gold — certainly,  I  will  take  no  gold,''  cried  Mastor. 

"You  are  a  brave  fellow,'"  answered  Verus,  in  a  different 
tone,  "  and  know  well  that  I  take  good  care  of  my  servants, 
and  would  rather  show  them  kindness  than  severity.  Satisfy 
then  my  curiosity  without  fear,  for  I  promise  that  no  one,  and 
least  of  all  your  master,  shall  learn  from  me  what  vou  will 
tell."  ^ 

Mastor  hesitated;  but  because  he  could  not  conceal  from 
himself  the  fact  that  he  would  at  last  be  forced  to  yield  to  tliis 
adroit  questioner,  and  partly  because  he  knew  him  to  be  one 
of  the  kindest-hearted  of  gentlemen,  he  sighed,  and  whispered: 

"  I  am  sure  you  do  not  wish  to  destroy  such  a  poor  wight; 
so  then  you  may  know.     We  dwell  on  the  Lochias. " 

''On  the  Lochias!"  exclaimed  Verus.  "And  now  about 
the  flowers?" 

"  That  is  mere  pleasantry." 

"  Is  Hadrian,  then,  in  such  a  cheerful  mood?" 

"  He  was  very  cheerful  until  last  night — " 

"  What  about  last  night?" 

"  You  know  well  how  it  is  when  he  sees  bad  tokens  in  the 
stars. " 

"  Bad  tokens!"  repeated  Verus,  earnestly.  "  And  yet  he 
is  sending  flowers?" 

"  He  did  not  send  them.     How  could  you  imagine  that?" 

"  Was  it  Antinous?" 

Mastor  nodded  affirmatively. 

"  Then  he  begins  to  find  admiration  better  than  being  so 
much  admired!  What  fair  one  has  animated  that  sleeping 
heart?" 

"  I  promised  not  to  gossip." 

"  Then  I  promise  you  the  same  thing.  My  power  of  keep- 
ing a  sp(Teet  exceds  my  curiosity." 

^j  Tiien  content  yourself  with  what  you  already  know." 

"  Half  knowledge  is  harder  to  bear  than  total  ignorance." 


THE  EMPEROE.  189 

"I  can  not  tell  you." 

"  Shall  I  begin  again  with  my  propositions?'* 

"  Ah,  sir,  I  beg  you  with  all  my  heart — " 

"Out  with  it,  and  I  shall  go  on  my  way,  and  leave  you  to 
go  yours/' 

"  It  concerns  only  a  pale  girl  whom  you  would  not  look  at."' 

"  So  it  is  a  girl?" 

"  Our  Molossian  dragged  the  poor  thing  down." 

"  On  the  street?" 

"  No,  on  the  Locliias.  Her  father  is  the  palace  overseer, 
Keraunus." 

"  And  is  her  name  Arsinoe?"  asked  Verus,  who  thought  of 
the  pretty  child  chosen  for  the  part  of  Eoxana  with  sincere 
pity. 

"  No,  she  is  called  Selene;  Arsinoe  is  her  younger  sister." 

"  Then  you  are  carrying  these  flowers  to  the  Lochias?" 

"  She  was  away  from  home,  and  could  not  get  back,  and 
lies  now  in  the  house  of  a  stranger." 

"  Where?" 

"  That  can  be  nothing  to  you." 

"  No,  nothing  at  all.    I  pray  you,  tell  me  the  whole  truth." 

"  Eternal  gods!  what  is  this  poor  creature  to  you?" 

"  Nothing  at  all;  but  I  must  know  where  you  are  going." 

"  Near  the  sea.  I  do  not  know  the  house,  but  the  driver 
behind  there — " 

"  Does  it  lie  far  from  here?" 

"  About  half  an  hour,"  answered  the  driver. 

"  So  then  it  is  quite  a  distance.  And  does  Hadrian  wish  to 
remain  unknown?" 

"Certainly." 

"  But  you,  his  body-slave,  whom  many  others  besides  me 
may  recognizp,  intend  to  ride  half  through  the  city  on  a  day 
when  everybody  who  has  legs  is  out,  with  that  great  bunch  of 
flowers  in  your  hand.     Oh,  Master,  that  is  not  wise!" 

The  slave  was  frightened,  but  perceiving  that  Verus  was 
right,  he  asked,  anxiously: 

"  What,  then,  ought  I  to  do?" 

"  Come  down  from  that  donkey;  disguise  yourself,  and  then 
make  merry  with  these  gold  pieces  to  your  heart's  content. " 

"  And  these  flowers?" 

"  Let  me  take  care  of  them. " 

"  Will  you  do  it  honestly,  and  never  let  Antinous  guess  that 
you  forced  me  to  it?" 

"  Certainly." 

"  There  are  the  flowers,  but  I  can  not  take  the  gold." 


190  TITF.  ■EMPEROR. 

"  Then  I  will  tlirow  it  among  the  crowd.  Buy  a  wreath 
and  a  mask,  and  us  much  wine  as  you  can  carry.  Where  is 
the  girl  to  be  found?" 

"With  one  Hannah.  Slie  lives  in  a  little  house  within  the 
garden  of  the  widow  of  Pudens.  Whoever  delivers  the  flowers 
must  say  they  were  sent  by  her  friend  on  the  Lochias. " 

"  Good.  Go  now,  and  be  careful  that  no  one  recognizes 
yoiL  Your  secret  is  mine,  and  the  *  friend  from  the  Lochias  ' 
will  not  be  forgotten." 

Mastor  disappeared  in  the  crowd,  Verus  gave  the  flowers 
into  the  hand  of  one  of  th3  garden  gods,  swung  himself  mer- 
rily upon  the  ass,  and  commanded  the  driver  to  point  out  the 
way.  At  the  corner  of  the  next  street  he  met  two  sedans.  In 
the  first  sat  Keraimus  in  his  crocus-colored  mantle,  and  fat  as 
Silenus,  the  companion  of  Dionysius,  but  with  a  sunny  face. 
From  the  second  peeped  Arsinoe,  so  fresh  and  beautiful  that 
lier  ai)pearance  quickened  the  blood  of  the  susceptible  Eoman. 
Following  a  quick  impulse,  he  took  the  flowers  destined  for 
Selene  from  the  hand  of  his  attendant,  laid  them  into  her 
sedan,  saying:  "  Alexander  greets  Roxana,  the  fairest  of  the 
fair."  Arsinoe  blushed,  but  Verus  commanded  one  of  his 
boys  to  follow  and  learn  her  destination,  meeting  him  at  the 
flower-market.  The  messenger  hastened,  and  he,  turning  his 
ass,  soon  reached  the  half  circular  pillared  hall,  on  the  shaded 
side  of  a  large  open  space  where  the  best  gardeners  and  flower 
dealers  of  the  city  offered  their  fragrant  wares.  Every  stall 
had  been  furnished  more  richly  than  usual  to-day,  but  the  de- 
mand had  been  so  steady  that,  though  Verus  ordered  the  best 
flowers  remaining,  the  result  Avas  not  so  handsome  as  Mastor 
had  secured  earlier  in  the  day.  This  vexed  the  Eoman.  A 
sense  of  justice  to  the  sick  girl  led  him  to  devise  some  way  of 
supplying  the  defect.  The  bunches  were  tied  Math  bright  rib- 
bons, and  had  long  streaming  ends.  Verus  took  a  brooch 
from  his  own  garment  and  fastened  it  within  the  bow  boimd 
about  the  flowers.  Now  he  was  satisfied,  and  pictured  to  him- 
self the  pleasure  Avhich  the  object  of  the  Bithynian's  devotion 
Avould  experience  in  finding  the  pretty  onyx  in  its  gold  setting, 
on  which  Avas  delicately  carved  the  figure  of  Eros  shai'pening 
his  arrows,  lie  commissioned  one  of  the  garden  gods,  a  Brit- 
ish shive,  to  deliver  the  flowers,  and  then  return  to  Avait  for 
liim  before  the  house  of  Titianus;  for  there,  he  had  just  heard, 
Keraunus  and  his  daughter  had  been  carried. 

Ilci-e  he  laid  aside  his  mask,  and  in  the  same  apartment 
wliere  Kei-aunus  Avas  Avaiting  rearranged  his  hair  and  the  dis- 
oi-dered  folds  of  his  toga  before  being  led  into  the  reception- 


THE  EMPEROR.  191 

room  of  Julia^  where  he  hoped  to  see  Arsinoe.  But  instead  of 
Arsinoe  he  found  only  his  own  wife  and  Balbilla.  Lively  and 
graceful  as  ever^,  he  greeted  these  ladies,  but  without  any  at- 
tempt at  concealing  liis  disappointment,  glanced  about  the 
spacious  apartment. 

Balbilla  approached  him,  asking,  hghtly: 

"  Can  you  be  honest,  Verus?" 

"  If  circumstances  are  favorable,  yes. " 

"  And  would  that  suit  you  to-day?'^ 

"  I  ought  to  think  so.'^ 

"  Then  tell  me  honestly,  was  this  call  designed  for  Julia, 
or  did  you  expect  to  find  the  pretty  Roxana?'^ 

*'Eoxana?''  itnswered  Verus,  with  a  roguish  smile  on  his 
lips.  "  She  was  the  wife  of  Alexander  the  Great,  and  died 
long  ago;  but  I  associate  with  the  living,  and  left  that  merry 
crowd  on  the  street  simply  and  only — " 

"  You  aggravate  my  curiosity.'^ 

"  Simply  and  only  because  my  sensitive  spirit  foresaw  the 
prospect  of  meeting  you,  my  fairest  Balbilla. ' ' 

*'  And  do  you  call  that  honest?"  cried  the  poetess,  striking 
the  pretor  with  the  handle  of  her  feather  fan.  "  Just  listen, 
Lucilla;  your  husband  dares  assert  that  he  came  here  to  find 
me." 

Verus  looked  at  her  reproachfully  as  she  whispered : 

"So  must  dishonest  men  be  punished."  And  turning  to 
Lucilla,  in  a  louder  voice  said:  "  Do  you  know,  Lucilla,  if  I 
never  marry  it  will  be  your  husband^s  fault?" 

"Yes,"  broke  m  Verus,  "  unfortunately,  I  was  born  too 
late  for  you." 

"  Do  not  misunderstand  me,^^  cried  Balbilla.  "  How  could 
I  dare  matrimony,  through  fear  of  finding  a  Verus  for  a  hus- 
band?" 

"  And  what  suitor  would  venture  to  woo  Balbilla,  could  he 
know  how  severe  she  can  be  toward  the  simple  admirer  of  her 
beauty?" 

"  A  husband  should  not  adore  beauty  in  general,  but  only 
the  one  fair  being  who  is  his  wife." 

"  Vestal!"  exclaimed  Verus,  with  a  laugh,  "  I  shall  punish 
you  by  holding  back  a  great  secret,  which  concerns  us  all. 
No,  no,  I  shall  not  stay  to  gossip;  but  I  beg  you,  wife,  to  teach 
her  the  practice  of  forbearance,  that  her  future  husband  may 
not  blame  me  too  heavily." 

"No  wife  can  teach  forbearance,"  returned  Lucilla,  "for 
we  only  practice  it  when  there  is  nothing  else  left  for  us  to  do 


192  THE    EMPEROR. 

and  the  sinner  gives  us  a  necessity  for  recogjiizing  him  in  this 
manner. ' ' 

Verus  bowed  before  his  wife,  kissed  her  arm,  and  asked: 

"  Where  is  Julia?" 

'*  She  has  rescued  the  lamb  from  the  wolf/'  answered  Bal- 
billa. 

"  That  means?"' 

"  As  soon  as  you  were  announced  she  hid  the  little  Roxana/' 

"  No,  no,"  broke  in  Lucilla.  "  The  tailor  was  waiting  to 
arrange  the  costume  for  that  charming  child.  Look  at  the 
beautiful  nosegay  she  brought  to  Jidia.  Do  you  also  deny  my 
right  to  share  your  secret?" 

*'  How  could  I?"  returned  Verus. 

"  He  stands  greatly  in  need  of  your  recognition,"  said  Bal- 
billa,  laughing;  whife  the  pi-etor,  w^hispering,  related  to  his 
wife  what  he  had  learned  from  Master. 

As  Lucilla  threw  up  her  hands  in  surprise,  Verus  said  to 
Balbilla: 

"  You  see  now  what  a  pleasm'e  you  have  lost  through  your 
wicked  words. " 

"  How  can  one  be  so  revengeful,  most  excellent  Verus?" 
said  the  poetess,  coaxingly;  "  I  am  dying  of  curiosity." 

"  Live  but  a  few  days,  fair  Balbilla,  and  the  cause  of  your 
early  death  will  be  removed. " 

"  Wait,  and  I  will  be  revenged!"  cried  the  girl,  threatening 
him  with  her  finger;  but  Lucilla  led  her  away,  saying: 

"  Come,  now,  Julia  will  be  needing  our  counsel." 

"Do  so,"  cried  Verus.  "I  fear,  besides,  that  no  one  is 
quite  at  liberty  to-day.     Salute  Julia  from  me." 

As  he  went  out  he  cast  a  look  upon  the  nosegay  Arsinoe  had 
given  away  so  soon  after  its  reception,  and  sighed,  saymg: 

"  As  one  grows  older  he  should  learn  humility." 


THE  EMPEROK.  193 


PART  II. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Hankah  watched  with  Selene  until  sunrise,  cooling,  at  fre- 
quent intervals,  the  injured  foot,  as  well  as  the  wounded  head. 

The  old  physician  was  not  dissatisfied  with  the  condition  of 
his  patient,  but  commanded  the  widow  to  take  a  few  hours  of 
rest,  and  commit  the  nursing  to  her  young  friend.  As  Maria, 
now  left  alone  with  the  patient,  laid  the  first  com]Dress  on  her 
head,  Selene  said  to  her: 

"  You  were  yesterday  on  the  Lochias.  Please  tell  me  how 
you  found  all  things  there,  who  showed  you  the  way  to  our 
dwelhng,  and  did  you  see  my  little  brothers  and  sisters?'^ 

"  You  are  not  yet  free  from  fever,  and  I  know  not  if  I  ought 
to  talk  much  with  you,  though  I  would  like  to  do  so." 

The  words  were  friendly,  and  the  eyes  of  the  deformed  girl 
were  beautiful  in  their  frank  sincerity.  Their  glances  ex- 
pressed not  only  sympathy  and  pity,  but  admiration;  for 
Selene  was  so  beautiful,  so  very  different  from  herself,  that  she 
seemed  to  be  nursing  a  princess.  Her  own  back  had  never  be- 
fore seemed  so  crooked  and  her  brown  face  so  ugly  as  in  con- 
trast with  the  fair  and  regular  features  and  delicately  formed 
figure  of  this  girl.  But  Maria  was  not  envious;  she  was  only 
happy  to  serve,  to  help,  to  look  u23on  Selene,  although  she 
knew  her  to  be  a  heathen. 

She  had  been  secretly  praying  during  the  night-time  that  the 
Lord  would  convert  this  beautiful  creature;  would  restore  her 
to  health,  and  fill  her  soul  with  that  love  which  made  her  own 
so  blessed.  More  than  once  she  had  been  tempted  to  kiss  her 
as  she  lay,  but  dared  not,  for  the  sick  girl  seemed  made  of 
some  finer  stufE.  Selene  was  very  much  exhausted,  and  in  the 
intervals  of  pain  experienced  in  this  quiet  atmosphere  of  kind- 
ness a  sensation  of  peace  and  rest  which  was  both  ncAV  and 
agreeable,  though  it  was  interrupted  by  her  usual  anxiety  for 
the  family. 

The  presence  of  Hannah  did  no  good,  for  she  fancied  in 


194  THE   EMPEROR. 

her  voioo,a  resemblance  to  that  of  her  own  mother,  when  she 
had  played  with  her  children  or  embraced  them  with  unusual 
tenderness. 

At  the  pasting-table  in  the  papyrus  mill  the  deformed  girl 
had  been  repulsive,  but  now  she  noticed  her  j^leasant  eyes  and 
friendly  voice;  and  the  tenderness  with  wliich  she  handled  her 
wounds  awoke  her  gratitude. 

Her  sister  Arsinoe  Avas  an  idle  Alexandrian  child,  and  had 
given  this  girl  the  nickname  of  "  Sister  Thersites,^'  after  the 
ugliest  of  the  Greeks  besieging  Troy;  and  Selene  herself  had 
sometimes  used  the  same  apj^ellation. 

But  she  remembered  no  more  the  shameful  word,  and  recog- 
nized the  thoughtful  kindness  of  her  nurse,  while  she  said: 

"  The  fever  can  not  be  very  high.  And,  if  you  give  me 
something  to  think  of,  I  shall  forget  the  pain.  I  long  for  my 
home.     Did  you  see  the  children ?'' 

"  No,  Selene,  When  I  reached  the  palace,  the  friendly  wife 
of  the  gate-keeper  told  me  at  once  that  both  your  father  and 
sister  were  absent,  and  that  the  slave  had  gone  to  buy  cakes 
for  the  children.^' 

"  To  buy  cakes!"  exclaimed  Selene  in  surjDrise. 

'"'  She  said  also  that  the  way  to  the  dwelhng  led  through  so 
many  spaces  where  the  slaves  were  at  work  that  her  son  should 
go  with  me.  He  did  so,  and  when  we  found  your  door  locked 
he  told  me  I  could  trust  his  mother  with  a  message.  That  I 
did,  for  she  looked  both  clever  and  kind. " 

"She  is  so." 

"  And  she  loves  you  very  much,  for  as  I  told  her  of  your 
suflCerings,  the  tears  ran  down  her  cheeks,  and  she  spoke  as 
warmly  and  with  as  much  sympathy  as  if  she  had  been  your 
own  mother. " 

"  I  hope  you  said  nothing  of  our  working  in  the  factory," 
said  Selene,  anxiously. 

"  Certainly  not,  for  you  had  asked  me  to  be  silent.  The 
old  lady,  too,  sent  you  many  friendly  messages. " 

"  Did  the  son  hear  also  of  my  misfortune?" 

**  Yes.  On  the  way  through  the  jDalace  he  was  fidl  of 
jokes;  but  when  I  told  him  that  you  went  out  and  were  unable 
to  return,  and  how  anxious  the  physician  felt  about  you,  he 
became  angry  and  uttered  blasphemous  words. " 

"  Do  you  remember  what  he  said?" 

"  Not  all,  but  1  can  tell  you  one  thing.  He  complained 
bitterly  that  the  gods  created  beautiful  tilings  only  to  damage 
them,  and  he  reviled — " 

Maria  cast  down  her  eyes,  as  if  uttering  something  unseem- 


THE  EMPEROR.  195 

ly;  but  Selene  flushed  with  pleasure,  and  said  zealously,  as  if 
wishing  to  exceed  the  comj^laints  of  Pollux: 

"  He  was  right,  for  those  above  treat  us  as  if — " 

"  It  is  not  good  to  speak  so/"  exclaimed  Maria,  reproach- 
fully. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  the  sick  girl.  "  You  live 
here  quietly,  in  j^eace  and  love.  I  remember  many  words  that 
Hannah  dropjjed  during  our  work-hours;  and  now  I  see  that 
she  looked  at  things  in  the  same  light.  You  may  well  think 
the  gods  to  be  kind.'" 

"God  is  so  to  all." 

"  Are  they  kind  to  those  whose  every  joy  they  ruin?"  cried 
Selene,  with  blazing  eyes.  "  When  they  tear  away  the  mother 
from  the  house  of  eight  children?  When  they  daily  threaten 
the  only  one  who  is  left  to  sup23ort  them?" 

"  Even  for  such  there  is  one  good  God,"  broke  in  Hannah, 
who  had  returned  to  the  room.  ' '  I  will  some  time  point  to  you 
the  kind  Father  in  heaven  who  cares  for  us  all,  as  if  we  Avere 
His  own  children — but  not  now.  You  ought  to  be  quiet,  and 
neither  hear  nor  speak  what  can  excite  your  fevered  blood. 
Now  I  will  rearrange  the  pillows  under  your  head,  and  Maria 
may  lay  on  a  new  compress,  and  then  you  must  try  to  sleep. " 

"  I  can  not,"  said  Selene.    "  Tell  me  of  your  friendly  God. " 

"  At  another  time,  my  dear  girl.  He  can  be  fomid  by  all 
who  seek  Him,  and  among  all  His  children  He  is  most  tender 
toward  those  who  suffer." 

"  Those  who  suffer!"  cried  Selene,  in  astonishment.  "  What 
cares  any  god — in  the  midst  of  Olympian  delights — about  those 
who  are  endm-ing  pain?" 

"Hush,  child,"  broke  in  Hannah,  and  with  a  soothing 
caress;  "  you  shall  soon  learn  of  God's  care,  and  how  another 
loves  you." 

"  Another?"  murmured  Selene  to  herself,  and  the  flush  on 
her  cheeks  deepened.  She  thought  of  Pollux,  asking  in  her 
own  mind  whether  he  would  have  been  so  moved  by  tlie  news 
of  her  misfortune  if  he  had  not  cared  for  her,  and  began  to 
concoct  some  reasonable  explanation  of  the  words  she  had 
heard  in  passing  his  work-place  in  the  Hall  of  the  Muses.  He 
had  never  said  in  so  many  words  that  he  loved  her.  And  why 
should  not  he,  a  sculptor,  a  fresh  and  merry-hearted  fellow, 
joke  with  the  pretty  girl,  even  though  his  heart  belonged  to 
another?  Xo,  he  was  not  indifferent  to  her,  that  she  had  per- 
ceived on  the  night  when  slie  served  as  his  model,  that  she 
plainly  read  in  Maria's  account.  And  the  more  she  thought, 
the  more  she  longed  for  him — this  friend  of  her  childhood. 


19 G  THE  EMPEROR. 

Ik'r  heart  had  never  beat  for  any  other  man,  but  since  her  in- 
terview with  liim  in  the  Hall  of  the  Muses,  her  whole  soul  had 
been  filled  with  his  image,  and  slie  Avas  sure  this  must  be  love 
— it  could  be  nothing  else.  Half  waking,  half  dreaming,  she 
fancied  that  he  entered  her  silent  room,  sat  down  beside  her 
bed,  and  looked  into  her  eyes.  Ah,  how  could  he  help  it? 
She  must  rise  and  stretch  out  her  arms  toward  him. 

"  Be  quiet,  child,"  said  Hannah;  "  it  is  not  good  for  you  to 
move  so  much.*' 

Selene  opened  her  eyes  only  to  close  them  again  and  dream 
on,  until  she  was  roused  by  the  sound  of  voices  in  the  garden. 

Ilannah  left  the  room,  and  soon  they  recognized  her  voice 
among  the  others,  and  as  she  returned  to  the  side  of  Selene, 
her  cheeks  were  flushed,  and  it  was  difficult  for  her  to  find  fit- 
ting words  in  which  to  relate  the  occurrence. 

"  A  huge  man  in  a  fantastic  dress,"  she  said  at  last,  "  de- 
sired admittance,  and  when  refused  by  the  gate-keeper  he 
simply  put  him  to  one  side.     He  asked  for  you. " 

"  For  me?"  asked  Selene,  blushing. 

"  Yes,  my  cliild.  He  brought  an  immense  and  beautiful 
nosegay  and  said  it  came  with  the  greeting  of  youi-  friend  on 
the  Lochias. " 

"■  My  friend  on  the  Lochias?"  murmured  Selene  to  herself, 
thoughtfully. 

Suddenly  her  eyes  became  bright  with  joy,  and  she  asked: 

"  Did  you  say  that  the  man  who  brought  the  flowers  was 
very  tall?" 

"That  he  was." 

"Oh,  please,  Hannah,"  cried  Selene,  trying  to  rise,  "let 
me  see  the  flowers!" 

"  Have  you  a  bridegroom,  child?"  asked  Hannah. 

"  A  bridegroom?  No,  but  there  is  a  young  man  with 
whom  we  played  as  children,  a  sculptor,  and  a  good  man,  who 
must  have  sent  the  flowers." 

Hannah  looked  at  her  sympathetically,  beckoned  to  Maria, 
and  said: 

"  The  nosegay  is  very  large.  You  can  look  at  it,  but  it 
will  not  do  to  keep  it  here;  the  odor  of  so  many  flowers 
might  do  you  injury." 

Maria  rose  from  her  seat  near  the  end  of  the  bed,  and  whis- 
pered to  Selene: 

"  Is  it  the  son  of  the  gate-keeper?" 

Selene  nodded  assent,  with  a  smile,  and  as  the  two  women 
went  together  to  bring  the  flowers,  she  was  able  to  change  her 
own  position  in  the  bed;  but  after  doing  so,  there  was  a  sing- 


THE   EMPEROR.  197 

ing  sound  in  her  ears,  and  shining  specks  seemed  floating  in 
the  air  before  her  eyes.  It  became  liard  to  breathe,  but  the  air 
seemed  to  her  filled  with  the  fragrance  of  flowers.  Hannah 
and  Maria  brought  in  the  gigantic  bunch  of  flowers.  Her  e3^es 
brightened,  and  she  clasjjed  her  hands  in  admiration,  and 
begged  her  friends  to  turn  it  first  on  this  side  and  then  on  that, 
pressed  the  flowers  against  her  face,  and  secretly  kissed  the 
tender  petals  of  a  half-opened  rose.  She  felt  intoxicated  with 
joy,  and  tears  coursed  each  other  down  her  cheeks.  Maria 
first  noticed  the  brooch  within  the  bow  of  ribbon,  and  pointed 
it  out  to  Selene,  who  took  it  into  her  hand.  Blushing,  she 
looked  at  the  delicate  carving  of  Eros  sharjiening  his  arrows. 
She  felt  no  more  pain;  she  was  well  and  joyous,  proud  and 
sui^remely  happy. 

Hannah  was  troubled  to  see  her  so  much  excited,  and  mo- 
tioned to  Maria,  while  she  said: 

''  That  is  enough,  daughter;  we  will  place  it  before  the  win- 
dow, where  you  can  see  it." 

"  So  soon?"  asked  Selene,  sorry  to  have  it  taken  away,  and 
breaking  ofl"  a  few  roses  and  violets  to  lay  on  the  pillow  beside 
her,  while  she  examined  lovingly  the  carving  on  the  brooch. 
Without  doubt,  she  thought,  it  had  been  cut  by  Teuker,  the 
brother  of  Pollux.  How  delicate  the  carving!  How  thought- 
fully chosen  the  sentiment  they  conveyed!  The  heavy  gold 
setting  troubled  her  a  little,  so  long  accustomed  to  look  upon 
money  only  as  the  means  of  supplying  absolute  necessities.' 
She  said  to  herself,  Pollux  ought  not  to  have  done  it.  Still  it 
was  pleasant,  and  would  she  not  gladly  have  done  as  much  for 
him?  Later,  she  thought,  she  might  give  him  some  lessons  in 
economy. 

The  two  women  returned,  after  arranging  with  some  diflfl- 
culty  the  mass  of  flowers  hi  the  window,  and  renewed  the  wet 
applications  without  speaking. 

She  was  content  to  be  silent,  for  her  heart  was  full  of  tender 
whispers.  And  wherever  she  turned  her  eyes  they  met  only 
what  was  agreeable. 

The  flowers — the  brooch — the  kind  face  of  Hannah — even 
Maria's  plain  features  were  beautiful,  for  she  was  not  quite  a 
stranger  to  Pollux,  and  to  lier  she  might  speak  of  him. 

Selene  knew  herself  no  more — winter  had  reigned  in  her 
soul,  but  now  the  spring-time  had  come — it  had  been  night, 
but  day  had  dawned;  her  heart,  formerly  a  parched  garden, 
was  gay  with  tlowers  and  fresh  with  green  leaves. 

Often  she  had  been  unable  to  comprehend  the  cheerfulness 


108  TnE  EMPEROR. 

of  Arsinoo,  .iiid  Ikv'"  bec7i  almost  angry  witli  tlic  mirth  of  the 
cliildren;  to-day  .she  would  have  been  glad  to  share  it. 

There  lay  the  poor  creature  gazing  blissfully  at  the  flowers, 
without  a  suspicion  that  they  had  been  sent  by  one  for  wliom 
she  cared  as  little  as  for  the  Christian  walking  up  and  down 
])efore  her  window  in  the  garden  of  tlie  widow  of  Pudens,  and 
fancving,  in  her  rapture,  tliat  she  possessed  the  love  of  a  heart 
•which  liad  never  been  liers,  and  which  was  at  this  moment 
absolutely  filled  with  the  image  of  her  sister.  Poor  Selene! 
The  dream  was  one  of  undisturbed  felicity,  but  with  every  mo- 
ment the  waking  drew  nearer,  and  what  a  waking  it  would  be! 

Keraunus  had  not  succeeded  in  visiting  Selene  with  Arsinoe 
before  the  hour  of  her  appointment  with  Julia.  The  attempt 
to  have  his  child  appear  there  in  a  dress  worthy  of  her  origin 
had  consumed  much  time,  and  had,  moreover,  been  fruitless. 
All  the  shoi:)s  and  magazines  were  closed,  for  merchants,  work- 
people and  slaves  shared  together  in  the  festivities  of  the  day. 
As  the  hour  approached,  Arsinoe  still  sat  in  the  simple  white 
dress  and  2je])lum,  trimmed  with  blue  ribbons,  which  looked 
even  worse  to-day  than  on  the  preceding  evening.  The  nose- 
gay ])resented  by  Verus  gave  her  much  pleasure.  All  girls 
Jove  beautiful  flowers,  and  there  is  a  sort  of  kinship  between 
girls  and  flowers. 

The  vexation  and  ill-humor  of  Keraunus  were  not  dimin- 
ished by  waiting  two  hours  in  the  antechamber  among  those 
who  sought  audience  with  the  prefect  while  Julia,  the  wife  of 
Verus,  and  Balbilla  were  selecting  the  costume  of  his  daughter 
among  the  costly  and  most  richly  colored  stulfs  in  fine  wool, 
silk,  and  delicate  bombazine. 

One  peculiarity  of  this  kind  of  labor  is  the  fact  that  the 
more  time  is  consumed  the  greater  the  number  of  heljjers. 

But  at  last  Arsinoe  apj)eared,  glowing  with  dehght  over  the 
beautiful  things  in  jn-ejiaration.  As  Keraunus  rose  from  his 
couch  to  meet  her,  the  door  opened  to  admit  Plutarch,  gar- 
landed and  adorned  with  flowers  as  usual,  and  supported  upon 
his  living  crutches. 

Every  one  rose  at  his  entrance,  and  as  Kerauniis  saw  that 
the  first  lawyer  of  the  city  and  tlie  representative  of  an  ancient 
family  bowed  to  him  he  did  the  same. 

Plutarch's  eyes  were  better  than  his  legs,  and  proved  them- 
selves among  tlie  best  where  pretty  women  were  concerned. 
On  the  thresbold  he  noticed  Arsinoe.  and  beckoned  to  her  with 
both  hands  as  to  a  familiar  ac(|uaintancc. 

'J'he  charming  girl  hiul  greatly  })k'ased  him.  lljul  he  been 
younger,  he  might  have  striven  for  lier  favor;  now  he  was  sat- 


THE  EMPEROR.  199 

Med  to  make  himself  agreeable  to  her.  After  his  usual  cus- 
tom, he  was  led  close  to  her  side,  and,  jiatting  her  u^iou  the 
arm,  asked: 

''  Well,  charming  Koxaua,  has  Julia  arranged  the  costume 
to  please  you?" 

"■  Oh,  she  has  chosen  such  beautiful  things!"  answered  the 
girl. 

The  washed  dress  of  Arsinoe  caught  the  quick  eye  of  the  old 
man,  and  since  Gabinius  had  that  morning  paid  him  a  visit  to 
find  out  whether  Arsinoe  did  not  after  all  work  in  the  factory, 
and  to  repeat  what  he  had  said  of  Keraunus,  as  a  poor,  puffed- 
iip,  gluttonous  fellow,  whose  collection  of  rarities  —  out  of 
wdiich  he  scornfully  specified  a  few — was  of  no  value  whatever. 
I'lutarch  instantly  asked  himself  how  he  could  preserve  his 
pretty  favorite  from  the  envious  tongues  of  her  rivals,  whose 
bitter  expressions  had  already  come  to  his  ear. 

"  Whatever  the  worthy  Julia  undertakes  will  be  excellently 
done,"  he  said,  and  added,  in  a  whisijer:  "  Day  after  to-mor- 
row, when  the  goldsmiths  reopen  their  shops,  I  shall  see  what 
I  can  find  for  you.  I  am  sinking!  Hold  me  up  higher,  Atlas 
and  Antti?us!  That  is  better.  Surely,  my  child,  I  see  better 
here  than  from  below.  Is  the  large  man,  standing  beliind, 
your  father?" 

"Yes.^^ 

'^  Have  you  no  mother?" 

"  8he  is  dead." 

"  Oh!"  answered  Plutarch,  in  a  tone  of  pity.  Then  turn- 
ing to  Keraunus,  he  said: 

''  Allow  me  to  congratulate  you  on  having  such  a  daughter. 
I  understand  that  you  must  also  supjily  the  mother's  place  to 
her. " 

"  That  is  unhapjDily  true,  my  dear  sir.  She  resembles  my 
poor  wife.     Since  her  death  I  have  led  a  joyless  life." 

"  But  I  hear  that  you  amuse  yourself  with  collecting  rarities. 
We  share  the  same  inclination.  Are  you  willing  to  disi^ose  of 
the  cu]?  of  my  namesake  Plutarch?  Gabinius  has  told  me  of 
its  quality.     It  ought  to  be  an  article  of  genuine  worth." 

"It  is  so,"  answered  Keraunus  with  jaride.  "  A  gift  from 
the  Emperor  Trajan  to  the  philoso2)her,  and  of  handsomely 
carved  ivory.  I  should  regret  parting  with  such  a  pearl, 
but" — and  here  he  lowered  his  voice — "I  am  under  obliga- 
tions to  you  for  kind  offices  to  my  daughter,  and  as  a  re- 
turn— " 

"  There  is  no  question  of  that  sort,"  broke  in  Plutarch, 
who  understood  human  nature  well  enough  to  perceive  from 


200  THE    EMTEROR. 

liis  b()n»])a8ti(;  spcccli  that  (Juiymius  luul  ivi^-esciited  him  in 
tnie  colors;  "  you  only  honor  nie  in  allowing  mc  to  assist  in 
furnishing  the  rostunR'  ol'  our  Eoxana.  I  beg  you  to  send  me 
the  cu]),  anil  I  consent  beforehand  to  a]iy  price  you  may  set  on 
it." 

This  was  a  moment  of  conilict  to  Keraunus.  Had  he  not 
been  in  such  jn-essing  need  of  money,  Mere  not  his  desire  for  a 
more  showy  slave  so  strong,  he  would  have  insisted  on  making 
the  cup  a  gift  to  Plutarch,  but,  as  it  was,  he  cleared  his  throat, 
and  staring  at  the  floor,  said,  in  an  embarrassed  manner,  and 
without  a  trace  of  his  former  assurance: 

''  I  shall  then  be  forced  to  remain  your  debtor,  as  you  seem 
to  wish  this  business  transaction  to  be  kept  apart  from  our 

fersonal  relations.  "Well,  then,  for  a  sword  of  Mark  Antony 
received  two  thousand  drachmas — " 

"  Then,"  broke  in  the  old  gentleman,  "  this  cup,  the  gift 
of  Trajan,  is  worth  twice  as  much  to  me,  who  bear  the  name 
of  my  illustrious  ancestor.  May  I  offer  four  thousand 
drachmas  for  your  treasure?" 

"  My  desire  to  gratify  you  leads  me  to  accept  the  offer,"  re- 
plied Keraunus,  with  great  dignity,  j^ressiug,  meanwhile,  the 
little  fingers  of  Arsiuoe,  who  stood  close  beside  him,  and  had 
been  trying  to  intimate  by  the  touch  of  her  hand  her  feeling 
that  he  ought  to  abide  by  his  first  suggestion,  and  make  it  a 
gift  to  Plutarch.  As  this  unequally  matched  pair  left  the 
antechamber,  his  eye  followed  them,  and  he  said  to  himself 
with  a  smile : 

"  For  once  I  am  pleased.  IIow  little  of  satisfaction  I  have 
in  my  own  riches;  and  how  often,  at  the  sight  of  some  robust 
bearer  of  burdens,  do  I  wish  I  could  exchange  jilaces  with  him. 
But  to-day  it  was  pleasant  to  have  as  much  as  I  wanted.  The 
most  pressing  need  of  these  people  seems  to  be  a  new  dress 
for  that  charming  child,  though  the  old  one  does  not  diminish 
her  beauty.  I  am  sure  she  belongs  to  me,  and  that  I  have 
seen  her  at  the  gumming-table. " 

As  soon  as  Keraunus  reached  the  street  with  Arsinoe,  he 
touched  her  shoulder  and  whispered : 

'"  I  told  you  it  would  be  so,  my  girl.  We  shall  yet  be  rich, 
and  need  in  no  respect  stand  behind  our  fellow-citizens." 

"  If  you  believed  that,  father,  }ou  sh;)uld  have  insisted  on 
presenting  tlie  cup  to  Plutarch." 

"  No,"  returned  Keraunus.  "  lousiness  is  business;  but 
some  time  T  will  repay  him  tenfolil  by  the  gift  of  my  Apellesi 
And  to  Julia  I  shall  send  the  sandal  straps  of  Cleopatra,  set 
with  precious  stones. " 


THE   EMPEROK.  201 

Arsiuoe  dropped  her  eyes  to  the  ground,  knowing  well  how 
much  these  things  were  worth,  and  said:  "  We  will  think  of 
tliat  by  and  by.  ■" 

They  mounted  the  sedans  in  waiting — Keraunus  thinking  that 
in  the  future  he  should  always  employ  one — and  were  taken 
to  the  garden  of  the  widow  of  Pudens.  It  was  this  visit  wliich 
dispelled  the  blissful  dream  of  Selene. 

Keraunus  conducted  himself  toward  Hannah  with  icy  cold- 
ness, for  it  pleased  him  to  make  her  feel  his  contempt  for 
everything  bearing  the  name  of  Christian.  When  he  expressed 
regret  that  Selene  had  been  forced  to  remain  in  her  house,  the 
widow  had  replied: 

"It  is  better  to  be  here  than  on  the  street.^' 

And  as  he  remarked  that  he  should  not  accept  her  atten- 
tions to  his  daughter  as  a  gift,  but  pay  her  for  the  nursing, 
Hannah  rei^lied : 

"  We  gladly  do  for  your  child  what  we  can,  and  there  is  an- 
other who  will  reward  us. " 

"  That  I  shall  never  allow,''  cried  Keraunus,  indignantly. 

"  You  misunderstand  me,"'  returned  the  Christian,  kindly. 
"  I  refer  to  no  human  being;  and  the  reward  we  hope  to  gain 
is  neither  in  money  nor  in  goods,  but  in  the  joyful  conscious- 
ness of  having  relieved  the  suffering.'' 

Keraunus  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  bade  Selene  ask  her 
physician  how  soon  she  might  be  carried  home. 

"  I  shall  not  leave  you  here  one  moment  longer  than  is 
necessary,"  he  said,  in  the  same  tone  he  might  have  used  with 
reference  to  moving  her  from  an  infected  house.  Then  he 
kissed  her  forehead,  and  bidding  adieu  to  Hannah,  as  care- 
lessly as  if  flinging  her  an  alms,  went  away  without  paying  the 
slightest  heed  to  Selene's  remark  that  she  was  very  comforta- 
ble and  happy  with  the  widow.  The  floor  had  for  some  time 
been  hot  under  his  feet,  and  the  gold  burned  his  pocket,  for 
he  had  the  means  of  buying  an  excellent  slave.  He  thought, 
jierhaps,  if  old  Sebek  were  thrown  in,  he  might  be  able  to 
obtain  a  good-looking  Greek,  who  would  teach  his  children  to 
read  and  write.  In  securing  the  fine  outward  appearance,  the 
point  of  cliief  importance  would  be  gained.  If  also  capable  of 
teaching,  he  could  justify  himself  in  expending  a  large  sum. 
As  he  approached  the  slave-market  he  said  to  himself:  "  It  is 
all  for  the  honor  of  the  house:  all  and  only  for  the  chil- 
dren!" 

According  to  his  direction,  Arsinoe  remained  with  Selene, 
and  he  promised  to  call  for  her  on  the  way  home. 

Hannah  and  Maria  left  the  sisters  together,  that  they  might 


302  THE   EMPEROR. 

8pe;il<  without  restraint.  So  soon  as  they  were  alone  Arsinoe 
said:  "You  have  red  cheeks,  Selene,  and  look  very  cheerful 
—and  I,  too,  am  so  happy — so  haj^i^y — " 

"  Is  it  because  you  are  to  rei^resent  lioxana?'^ 

*'  That  is  also  very  pleasant;  and  then,  who  would  have 
thought  yesterday  that  another  day  Avould  find  us  so  rich?  "We 
really  know  not  what  to  do  with  our  money.  " 

"Wer' 

"  Yes;  for  the  father  has  sold  two  pieces  out  of  his  collection 
for  four  thousand  drachmas." 

"Oh!"  cried  Selene,  clapping  her  hands  lightly.  "Then 
the  most  jiressing  debts  wdll  be  jiaid. " 

"  Certahily;  but  that  is  not  the  best  thing." 

"  What  then?'' 

"  Where  shall  I  begin?  Oh,  Selene,  my  heart  is  so  full!  I 
am  really  tired,  and  j'ct  I  could  dance,  and  sing,  and  whirl  all 
day  and  until  to-morrow  morning  again  for  joy.  When  I 
think  of  my  good  fortune  my  head  fairly  spins,  and  I  feel  that 
I  must  catch  at  something  not  to  stagger.  Y^ou  do  not  yet 
know  how  one  feels  Mhom  the  arrow  of  Eros  has  wounded  her. 
Ah,  I  love  Pollux  and  he  loves  me — so  much!" 

All  the  blood  left  Selene's  cheeks  as  her  pale  lips  whispered 
faintly : 

"  Pollux,  the  son  of  Euphorion;  the  sculptor,  Pollux!" 

"  Yes,  our  dear,  good,  tall  Pollux.  Sharpen  your  ears  now, 
and  let  me  tell  you  all  about  it.  Last  night,  on  the  Avay  to  see 
you,  he  confessed  liis  love  for  me;  and  now  you  must  counsel 
me  how  soonest  to  win  over  the  father.  He  is  sure  to  consent 
some  time,  for  Pollux  always  succeeds,  and  one  day  he  w^ill  be- 
come more  famous  than  Papias  and  Aristcas  and  Nealkes  to- 
gether. That  silly  freak  o*f  liis  youth —  But  how  jjale  you  are, 
Selene!" 

"It  is  nothing,  really  nothing  but  the  pain.  Go  on,"  said 
Selene. 

"  Hannah  said  I  must  not  let  you  talk  too  much." 

"Tell  mo  all;  I  will  be  quiet." 

"  Y^ou  saw  the  beautiful  hejid  of  our  mother  which  he 
made,"  continued  Arsinoe.  ■"■'  It  was  before  that  bust  we  met 
and  spoke  together  for  the  first  time  in  nuuiy  3'ears,  and  I  felt 
at  once  that  he  was  the  detu-est  man  on  the  eartli.  He  fell  in 
love  with  me,  i)oor  stujjid  thing,  at  the  same  time.  Then 
last  evening  he  came  here  with  me.  As  I  went  through  the 
streets,  leaning  on  his  arm — oh,  Selene,  it  Avas  beyond  all 
words! — you  would  not  believe  nie!  Does  the  foot  give  sucb 
pain,  you  poor  dear?  for  I  see  the  tears  ui  your  eyes." 


THE  EMPEROE.  203 

"  Go  on,  and  tell  me  more. " 

And  Arsinoe  did  as  she  was  bidden,  sparing  nothing  which 
could  broaden  and  deepen  the  wound  in  that  heart!  Eeveling 
in  sweet  memories,  she  described  the  very  spot  on  the  street 
where  Pollux  had  given  her  the  first  kiss,  and  the  bushes  in 
the  garden,  under  whose  shade  he  had  clasped  her  in  his  arms 
— their  blissful  walk  in  the  moonlight.  She  told  her,  too,  of 
the  crowds  gathered  for  the  feast  of  Dionysius,  and  how  they, 
insj^ired  by  the  god,  had  joined  the  train,  and  danced  madly 
through  the  streets — of  the  hard  parting,  at  last,  and,  with  a 
laugh,  how  her  father  had  found  the  ivy  leaf  in  her  hair. 

She  chattered  on,  intoxicated  by  her  own  words,  and  did  not 
see  how  it  affected  Selene.  "What  if  she  had  known  that  it  was 
her  words  alone  which  caused  that  painful  twitching  about  the 
mouth  of  her  sister?  When  she  afterward  described  the  rich 
stuffs  Julia  had  chosen  for  her  costume,  Selene  listened  with 
only  half  an  ear,  but  was  quick  to  catch  the  sum  Plutarch  had 
offered  for  the  ivory  cuj),  and  the  fact  that  her  father  had  de- 
termined to  exchange  the  old  slave. 

"  Our  good  old  black  stork  looks  shabby,  it  is  true,"  said 
Arsinoe,  "but  I  am  very  sorry  to  have  him  go  away.  Had 
you  been  at  home  perhaps  father  would  not  have  thought  of 
it." 

Selene  laughed  dryly,  and  said,  with  some  scorn  in  her  tone: 

"  Two  days  before  you  are  turned  out  into  the  street  you  will 
be  riding  in  a  chariot.     Biit  go  on  with  your  story.  ^' 

"  You  take  always  the  dark  view,"  said  Arsinoe,  a  little  re- 
pulsed. "  But  I  assure  you  all  will  come  out  better  than  we 
fear.  So  soon  as  we  are  rich  enough  we  will  buy  Sebek  back 
again,  and  take  care  of  him  as  long  as  he  lives. " 

Selene  shrugged  her  shoulders,  but  Arsinoe  sjH'ung  ny),  with 
tears  in  her  eyes.  She  had  been  so  glad  to  share  all  these 
pleasant  things  with  her  sister,  and  really  believed  they  would 
eidiven  the  tedium  of  her  sick-room,  and  be  like  simshine  in 
her  shadowed  soul.  And  now  she  met  nothing  in  response  but 
scornful  words  and  gestures. 

We  are  not  less  injured  by  the  hesitation  of  a  friend  to  sym- 
pathize in  our  joy  than  to  have  him  desert  us  in  misfortune. 

"If  you  woukl  only  leave  one  joy  imimbittered,"  cried 
Arsinoe.  "  1  know  well  that  you  are  never  satisfied  with 
anything  I  do,  but,  nevertheless,  we  are  sisters,  and  you  need 
]K)t  grind  your  teeth,  and  spare  your  words,  and  shrug  your 
slK)ul(k'r,s,  wlion  I  tell  you  tilings  in  which  even  girls  who  were 
strangers  would  sympathize.  You  are  so  cold  and  inifeeling, 
and  will  perhaps  even  betray  me  to  the  father — " 


204  THJ^  EMPEROR. 

Arsiiioo  did  not  finish  lier  sentence,  for  Selene  looked  up 
with  eves  so  full  of  anguish,  and  said: 

*'  I  c'lin  not  rejoice  when  it  hurts  so  sorely."  And  the  tears 
ran  down  her  cheeks. 

New  compassion  sprung  up  in  the  heart  of  Arsinoe  at  hear- 
ing these  words,  and  bending  over  she  kissed  her  once,  twice, 
thrice,  but  Selene  onh^  pressed  her  back,  and  sobbed: 

"  Leave  me,  I  beg  you — leave  me,  and  go  away.  I  can  not 
bear  it  any  longer,^'  and  turned  her  face  to  the  wall. 

Arsinoe  tried  again  to  win  her  with  caressing  words  and  lov- 
ing touches,  but  the  distressed  girl  only  repulsed  her,  and  cried 
in  desperation : 

"  I  shall  die  if  you  do  not  leave  me  alone. " 

And  the  girl,  so  favored  of  fortune,  whose  choicest  gifts  had 
been  scorned  by  her  only  sister  and  female  friend,  went  weep- 
ing out  of  the  house,  to  wait  there  the  return  of  her  father. 

When  Hannah  came  back  to  the  care  of  her  imtient,  she 
noticed  that  she  had  been  weeping,  but  asked  no  questions. 
Toward  evening  the  widow  suggested  her  remaining  alone  for 
half  an  hour,  that  she  and  Maria  might  join  the  brethren 
and  sisters  at  the  evening  prayer  service,  and  promised  that 
they  would  pray  for  her  also. 

"  Let  tilings'^  stay  as  they  are,'"  said  Selene.  "  They  can 
not  be  changed.     There  are  no  gods." 

"It  is  true,"  returned  Hannah,  "  that  there  are  no  gods. 
But  there  is  one  good  loving  Father  in  heaven,  as  you  have 
alreiuly  learned." 

"  As  I  have  learned,"  murmured  Selene,  in  a  tone  of  biting 
sarcasm. 

When  alone,  she  raised  herself  in  the  bed  and  flung  the 
roses  and  violets  that  had  been  lying  beside  her  far  into  the 
room,  and  bending  back  the  fastening  of  the  brooch  until  it 
was  broken,  she  let  it  slide  down  between  the  bed  and  the 
wall,  and  then  fell  back,  staring  vacantly  at  the  ceiling.  With 
the  api)roach  of  evening  the  increased  fragrance  exhaling  from 
tlie  lilies  and  honeysuckles  before  the  window  became  un- 
j)leasant  to  her  fevered  senses.  They  were  remhiders  of  her 
shattered  joys  and  witnesses  of  her  present  misery. 

She  drew  the  covers  over  her  face  to  shut  out  this  fresh  an- 
noyance, but  as  Cjuickly  flung  them  ofl',  with  a  sense  of  suti^o- 
cation.  A  strange  restlessness  took  possession  of  her  whole 
being,  which  aggravated  the  pain  in  her  ankle  and  set  her 
whole  head  tlirobbing.  Lvery  nerve  was  keenly  alive,  every 
thouglit  increased  her  distress;  lier  soul  was  at  the  mercy  of 
cruel  powers,  its  emotions  tossed  back  and  forth,  as  a  storm 


THE   EMPEKOR.  205 

beats  the  crowns  of  the  jDahii-trees.  Without  the  relief  of 
tears,  unable  to  remain  in  one  jiosition,,  and  yet  jjunished  by 
new  agony  for  every  motion,  incapable  of  reasoning  or  of  con- 
nected thought,  3^et  persuaded  that  the  odor  of  the  flowers  was 
acting  upon  her  like  poison,  she  dragged  her  injured  foot  from 
the  bed,  and  sat  down  ujwn  its  edge,  without  heeding  either 
the  i)ain  or  the  warning  of  her  physician.  The  long  tresses  of 
her  hair  fell  about  her  face  and  down  over  her  shoulders  and 
arms. 

In  this  position,  her  thoughts  took  a  new  direction.  Out- 
wardly, a  statue  of  stone  staruig  vacantly  at  the  floor,  yet  bit- 
ter hostility  against  her  sister,  hatred  toward  Pollux,  contempt 
for  the  miserable  weaknesses  of  her  father  and  for  her  own 
infatuation,  made  a  wild  temj^est  within  her  soul. 

The  garden  lay  in  peaceful  silence,  and  the  evening  wind 
brought  snatches  of  the  pious  song  from  the  praying  circle  in 
the  house  of  the  widow  of  Pudens  to  her  ear.  Selene  gave  it 
no  heed,  but  as  a  stronger  breath  of  the  sickly  fragrance 
touched  her  senses,  she  clutched  her  own  hair  with  a  violence 
that  produced  a  cry  of  pain.  Then  the  question  whether  this 
were  less  rich  and  beautiful  than  that  of  her  sister,  came  into 
her  mind,  and  with  it  a  wish,  sudden  as  lightning,  that  she 
might  so  clutch  her  sister  by  the  hair  and  hurl  her  to  the 
ground. 

Again  that  odor,  that  imendurable  fragrance!  She  would 
not  bear  it  any  longer!  She  rose  and  with  very  halting  steps 
succeeded  in  reaching  the  window  and  dashing  the  flowers  to 
the  ground,  with  the  vase  in  which  they  stood,  which,  oidy  a 
short  time  before,  had  cost  all  Hannah's  sjjare  money. 

Standing  upon  one  foot,  she  leaned  against  the  side  of  the 
window  for  sujajoort,  and  heard  more  distinctly  the  plashing  of 
the  waves  upon  the  stony  beach  behind  the  little  house  of 
Hannah.  With  fevered  blood,  and  burning  foot,  and  throb- 
bing head,  and  her  soul  consuming  Avith  hatred,  as  by  a  slow 
fire,  every  wave  dashing  among  the  j)ebbles  seemed  to  cry  out 
to  her:  "Come  to  me.  I  can  put  out  the  flames;  I  can  re- 
fresh and  cool  your  blood. ' '  What  had  life  to  offer  but  new 
torment  and  misery?  But  the  sea,  that  dark,  blue  sea,  was 
vast,  and  cold,  and  deep,  and  the  waves  wooed  lier  with  flat- 
tering promise  to  take  away  at  once  the  glow  of  the  fever  and 
the  burden  of  life.  Selene  did  not  reflect,  she  weighed  noth- 
ing; she  remembered  neither  the  children  to  whom  she  stood 
in  place  of  the  mother,  2ior  the  father  whose  guard  and  suj> 
port  she  had  been;  and  listened  only  to  the  gloomy  roices  which 


20G  THE   EMPEROR. 

whispert'd   tliut  llu;  world  \v;is  bad  and  cruel — a  state  where 
grief  and  anxiety  would  never  cease  to  gnaw  the  soul. 

She  fancied  herself  standing  m  a  burning  pool  that  reached 
her  tcm]>les;  and  as  one  whose  garments  are  in  llanies  instinct- 
ively rushes  toward  the  water,  so  she  ho])ed  to  lind  in  those 
dejiths  the  goal  of  all  her  longings — that  fair,  cold  death  in 
which  all  is  over  forever.  Groaning  and  dizzy,  she  staggered 
through  the  door  into  the  garden;  and  with  both  hands  jjressed 
upon  her  temi^les,  limjjed  toward  the  sea. 


CHAPTEE   II. 

The  Alexandrians  were  stiff-necked.  Only  something  very 
remarkable  in  a  city  always  full  of  strange  sights  could  induce 
them  to  turn  their  heads.  To-day,  es2)ecially,  each  one 
thought  of  himself  and  his  own  i)leasure.  Some  especially 
stately  or  fantastically  attired  figure  might  cause  a  momentary 
smile  or  Avord  of  ap2)lause;  but  before  one  had  really  looked  it 
had  jiassed  on,  and  some  new  object  attracted  the  eye. 

So  no  one  gave  especial  attention  to  Hadrian  and  his  two 
companions,  who  let  themselves  be  borne  with  the  tide  of  liv- 
ing beings  through  the  city  streets. 

Hadrian  Avas  dressed  to  rejiresent  Silenus,  Pollux  as  a  faun. 
Both  wore  masks,  and  the  slender,  suj)23le  youth  supported  his 
character  quite  as  well  as  the  vigorous  man  at  his  side. 

Antinous  rej)resented  Eros,  wearing  a  rose-colored  mantle 
and  garlands  of  flowers,  the  silver  quiver  over  his  shoulder  as 
well  as  the  bow  in  his  hand  indicating  the  god  he  jiersonated. 
lie  also  wore  a  mask,  but  his  figure  often  attracted  attention, 
and  many  a  "  Long  live  Eros!"  or  "  Be  gracious  to  me,  beau- 
tiful son  of  Aphrodite!'^  echoed  after  him. 

Pollux  had  taken  the  costimies  from  the  house  of  his  master 
Pa2)ias,  who  was  absent  when  he  went  for  them — but  the  ques- 
tion of  his  consent  seemed  needless  to  the  youth,  for  he,  as 
well  as  the  other  apprentices,  had  often,  Avitli  the  knowledge 
of  Pajiias,  used  these  things  for  a  similar  ])ur2)ose.  He  hesi- 
tated a  little  over  the  quiver  because  it  Avas  of  real  silver,  and 
had  been  a  gift  to  Papia,s  from  the  Avife  of  a  rich  grain  dealer, 
Avhose  image  he  had  cut  in  marble  representing  lier  as  Artemis 
hunting. 

"  The  handsome  friend  of  the  architect,"  said  Pollux  to 
himself,  as  he  laid  this  article  in  the  basket  with  the  other 
things,  which  a  squint-eyed  boy  was  to  carry  to  Hadrian, 
"  Avill  make  a  charming  Eros,  but  he  must  have  a  (]uiver,  and 
before  the -sun  rises  it  Avill  be  hairging  again  on  its  hook.-" 


THE   EMPEROR.  207 

But  Pollux  found  littlo  opportunity  to  rejoice  in  tlio.  bcnuty 
of  this  god  of  love,  for  the  Koman  architect  whom  he  guide(i 
had  such  an  insatiable  desire  to  know  everything,  that  thi^-: 
young  man,  horn  and  brought  up  in  Alexandria,  was  besieged 
with  questions.  Not  content  with  seeing  the  main  streets  and 
public  squares,  he  looked  also  at  the  private  houses,  and  asked 
after  the  names  and  position  and  wealth  of  their  occupants. 
The  clear-headed  manner  in  which  he  asked  to  be  conducted 
into  this  or  that  ]jart  of  the  city  testified  to  Pollux  that  he  was 
quite  familiar  with  its  plan,  and  the  pleasure  and  admiration 
he  exj^ressed  in  the  broad,  clean  streets,  the  charming  oi^en 
places,  and  the  fine  buildings,  were  most  gratifying  to  the 
patriotic  young  Alexandrian. 

Hadrian  asked  first  to  be  taken  along  the  sea,  and  by  way  of 
the  Bruchiom  to  the  temi^le  of  Poseidon,  before  which  he  per- 
formed an  act  of  devotion.  He  looked  into  the  gardens  of  the 
kingly  palace  and  its  neighboring  museum. 

The  Ca^sareum,  with  its  Egy^itian  gate,  excited  his  admira- 
tion not  less  than  the  countless  statues  in  the  great  theater, 
surrounded  by  its  many-storied  arcade.  From  this  they  turned 
to  the  left  toward  t]ie  sea  again,  to  visit  the  Emporeum,  the 
forest  of  masts  in  the  harbor  of  Eunostus,  and  the  handsome 
quays.  The  Heptastadium  was  to  the  right,  and  the  harbor 
of  Kibotus,  swarming  with  merchant  ships,  held  their  attention 
but  a  short  time.  Here  they  turned  their  backs  upon  the 
sea,  going  through  the  quarter  called  Ehacotis,  j)eopled  entirely 
by  Egyjitians,  and  containing  much  that  interested  the 
Romans. 

They  met  first  so  formidable  a  procession  of  priests  in  the 
service  of  the  Nile  gods,  bearing  chests  of  relics,  holy  vessels, 
divhiities,  and  images  of  sacred  animals  to  the  8erapeum  as 
to  fill  all  the  neighboring  streets.  Hadrian  did  not  attempt  to 
reach  the  building,  but  lie  looked  at  the  vehicles  going  up  an 
inclined  road  toward  the  sacred  temple,  and  also  the  ti-ain  of 
worshipers  on  foot  who  climbed  by  a  long  flight  of  stairs  that 
grew  broader  toward  the  toj^,  and  ended  in  a  j^latform  on  which 
four  strong  pillars  sui^ported  a  skillfully  vaulted  cupola.  The 
eye  could  not  at  once  take  hi  all  the  structures  connected  with 
the  temple  and  protected  by  this  gigantic  canopy.  The 
priests  in  their  white  robes,  the  lean,  half-naked  Egyptians 
with  their  folded  aprons  and  head-clotlis,  the  statues  of  ani- 
mals, and  the  curiously  painted  houses  in  this  quarter  greatly 
interested  Hadrian  and  led  him  to  ask  many  questions  that 
Pollux  was  unable  to  answer. 

Their  visit  of  observation  extended  to  the  southern  extremity 


208  THE   EMPEROR. 

of  the  cit}',  l.ving  along  the  .sliores  of  Lake  Mareotis.  Nilo 
shi]).s  and  boats  of  every  shape  and  size  Jay  at  anclior  in  this 
deej)  inhmd  water.  HerePoUux  jiointcd  out  tlie  canal  tlirough 
which  incrcliandise  brought  u])  the  river  was  conveyed  to  the 
shi])s,  and  called  attention  to  tlie  charming  country  seats  and 
well-nursed  vineyards  on  the  shores  of  the  lake.  Hadrian  re- 
marked, thoughtfully: 

"  The  body  of  this  city  ought  to  thrive,  since  it  receives 
nourishment  through  two  mouths  and  two  stomachs — I  mean 
the  sea  and  the  lake." 

"  And  two  harbors  also/'  added  Pollux. 

"  You  are  right,"  answered  Hadrian;  "but  it  is  time  for 
us  to  return. " 

And,  gohig  again  eastward,  they  j^assed  through  the  silent 
streets  whei-e  the  Christians  had  their  homes,  also  the  Jews' 
quarter.  Here  many  houses  were  closed;  and  they  found 
nothing  of  the  festal  confusion  which  reigned  among  all  the 
heathen  population;  for  the  strict  adherents  of  the  Jewish 
faith  kept  themselves  apart  from  the  celebration  of  heathen 
festivities;  while  theyAvho  lived  among  them  gradually  learned 
to  take  their  share. 

For  the  third  time  that  day,  Hadrian  and  his  companions 
crossed  the  Canopic  wa}' — that  great  mart  of  commerce  which 
divided  the  city  into  two  j^arts — the  northern  and  the  southern; 
for  he  wished  to  ascend  the  Panium  hill  and  get  a  view  of  both 
2)arts,  and  learn  their  relations  to  each  other. 

The  carefully  kept  gardens  surrounding  this  eminence 
swarmed  with  living  beings,  and  the  winding  path  leading  to 
the  toj)  was  crowded  with  women  and  children  going  wp  to  get 
a  view  of  the  most  striking  spectacle  of  the  day,  to  be  followed 
by  performances  in  all  the  theaters. 

Before  the  emperor  and  his  companions  reached  the  Panium, 
the  crowd  had  become  dense,  and  the  cry  passed  from  one  to 
another: 

"Here  they  come!"  "To-day  they  begin  earlier!" 
"There  they  are!" 

Lictors,  with  their  fasces,  cleared  the  broad  streets  leading 
from  the  prefecture  to  the  Panium,  over  the  Bruchiom,  giving 
no  heed  to  the  mocking  and  jeering  words  elicited  l)y  their  aj)- 
jK-arance.  One  woman,  whom  a  guard  pressed  back  with  his 
fasces,  cried  in  scorn : 

"  Better  give  me  the  reeds  for  my  children  than  use  them 
against  (juiet  citizens." 

"  An  ax  is  hidden  within  the  bundle,"  added  a  scribe  in 
warning. 


THE   EMPEROH.  209 

"  Then  pass  it  along  to  me,"  said  a  butcher;  "  it  will  serve 
in  my  slaughter-house." 

The  blood  rose  to  the  face  of  the  Romans;  but  they  remem- 
bered the  words  of  the  prefect,  who,  knowing  the  Alexandrians, 
had  bid  them  be  deaf — seeing,  not  hearing,  all  things. 

Now  there  appeared  a  cohort  from  the  twelfth  legion  sta- 
tioned in  Egyj)t,  in  j)arade  uniform.  Behind  them  walked  a 
double  row  of  chosen  hctors  crowned  with  wreaths.  Then 
came  many  hundred  wild  animals,  led  by  the  dark-skinned 
Egyptians — leopards,  panthers,  giraffes,  gazelles,  antelopes 
and  deer.  After  this  a  richly  dressed  and  gayly  wreathed 
Dionysian  choir,  with  tambourine,  lyre,  double  flute,  and 
triangle-clang;  and  finally,  drawn  by  ten  elejihants  and  twenty 
white  horses,  a  great  gilded  ship  fixed  ujDon  wheels,  represent- 
ing the  vessel  into  which  Tyrrhenian  j^irates  enticed  the  young 
Dionysius,  after  they  had  discovered  the  black -haired  youth  in 
his  purple  garments  on  the  shore.  But  the  evil-doers — so  said 
the  myth — were  not  long  permitted  to  rejoice  in  their  crime, 
for  scarcely  had  they  reached  the  open  sea  when  the  chains  of 
the  god  fell  off,  vine  leaves  grew  with  miraculous  rapidity  and 
luxuriance  over  the  sails,  while  the  tough  stalks  and  the 
clinging  ivy  twined  like  serpents  around  mainmast  and  oars, 
and  immense  bunches  of  grapes  made  the  ro23es  heavy  and 
covered  all  the  sides  and  decks.  Dionysius  is  equally  powerful 
on  land  or  sea.  He  himself  took  the  form  of  a  lion,  and  the 
frightened  pirates,  23lnnging  terrified  into  the  sea,  were  changed 
into  dolphins,  who  followed  their  lost  vessel.  Titianus,  who 
had  devised  and  adorned  this  to  represent  the  Homeric  poem 
and  feast  the  eyes  of  the  Alexandrians,  was,  with  his  wife  and 
many  Romans  from  the  suite  of  the  empress,  carried  in  this 
veliicle  through  the  streets  to  enjoy  the  festal  demonstrations. 
Great  and  small,  old  and  young,  male  and  female,  Greeks, 
Romans,  Jews,  Egyptians,  dark  and  light  skinned  strangers, 
both  smooth  and  woolly  haired,  pressed  with  equal  zeal  to  the 
borders  of  the  streets  to  see  the  gilded  ship. 

Hadrian,  with  a  better  appreciation  of  the  mirth  than  his 
more  sensitive  companion,  had  pushed  into  the  forward  row, 
and  as  Antinous  tried  to  follow,  a  Greek  boy  whom  he  had 
pushed  to  one  side,  tore  the  mask  from  his  face,  dropped  to 
the  ground,  and  slipped  nimbly  away  with  his  booty.  As 
Hadrian  turned  to  look  after  the  Bithynian,  the  ship  on  which 
the  prefect  stood  between  the  pictures  of  the  emperor  and  the 
empress,  and  Julia  Balbilla,  with  her  companion  and  other 
Romans  were  seated,  Avas  close  upon  them.  His  sharp  eye 
had  recognized  their  faces,  and  as  he  feared  the  uncovered  face 


210  THE   EMPEROR. 

of  Antiiious  would  betray  his  presence,  lie  cried  to  him:  "  Tuni 
around,  and  step  back  into  the  crowd!" 

Antinous  obeyed  the  command  instaiitly,  and  glad  to  bo  free 
from  the  press,  which  was  in  the  liighest  degree  annoying  to 
him,  sat  down  uj^on  a  bench  near  the  Panium,  and  fell  to 
dreaming  of  Selene  and  the  nosegay  lie  hud  sent  her,  and 
neitlicr  saw  nor  heard  wliat  was  jjassing  around  him.  When 
the  gay  ship  left  the  Panium  garden  and  turned  into  tlie  Can- 
opic  way,  the  noisy  crowd  jiressed  onward  with  it. 

As  a  brook  suddenly  swollen  by  a  cloud-burst  rushes  madly 
along  its  channel  carrying  all  before  it,  so  were  Hadrian  and 
Pollux  forced  to  follow  in  its  wake.  An  immensely  long 
colonnade  bordered  this  famous  street,  which  led  from  one  end 
of  the  city  to  the  other.  Hundreds  of  Corinthian  columns 
supported  its  covering,  and  by  clinging  to  one  of  these  they 
succeeded  in  gaining  a  footing  and  recovering  their  spent 
breath. 

The  first  care  of  Hadrian  was  to  find  Antinous,  and  as  he 
shrunk  from  mixing  again  in  the  crowd,  he  begged  Pollux  to 
search  for  him. 

"  Will  you  wait  for  me  here?"  asked  Pollux. 

"  I  have  known  more  comfortable  places,"  sighed  Hadrian. 

*'  I  also,"  answered  Pollux.  "  The  high  poi^lar  and  ivy- 
wreathed  door  yonder  leads  into  a  cook-shop,  where  even  the 
gods  might  be  well  entertained." 

"  I  will  wait  for  you  there.'" 

"  But  I  warn  you  to  exercise  self-denial,  for  the  '  Ol3'mi)ian 
Table  '  of  the  Corinthian  Lykortas  is  the  most  expensive  eat- 
ing-house in  the  city.  Only  those  carrying  the  heaviest  purses 
are  his  guests. " 

"  That  is  good  news,"  said  Hadrian,  laughing.  "  Get  a 
new  mask  for  my  assistant  and  bring  him  back.  It  will  not 
make  me  a  bankrupt  to  get  a  meal  for  three  of  us.  On  a 
feast-day  one  expects  to  pay  out  something." 

"  May  you  not  repeat  the  otter!  Such  a  tall  fellow  as  I  can 
keep  liis  host  busy  at  tlie  wine-tankard  and  behind  the 
dishes." 

"■  We  will  see  what  you  can  do,"  cried  the  emperor  after 
him,  as  he  was  harrying  away.  "  And  besides,  I  owe  you  a 
meal  in  return  for  your  mother's  supper  of  cabbage." 

While  Pollux  sought  the  l>ith)niian,  tlie  emi)eror  entered  the 
lirst  eating-house  of  a  city  famous  in  culinary  art. 

The  space  where  the  greater  part  of  tlie  guests  took  their 
meals  was  an  open  court,  surrounded  by  pillared  halls,  three 


THE  EMPEROR.  211 

sides  of  which  were  only  covered  at  tlie  top,  and  one  iucloscd 
by  AS'alls. 

In  this  ojien  sjiace  were  couches,  on  which  the  guests  re- 
clined, singly,  in  pairs,  or  in  large  groups,  ordering  the  dishes 
and  drinks  of  their  choice,  Avhich  the  slaves — pretty  boys  with 
curling  hair  and  tasteful  garments  —  served  on  small,  low 
tables.  Here  a  party  was  merry  and  noisy — there  sat  some 
epicure  silently  enjoying  the  delicate  dainties — yonder  a  circle 
of  men  were  more  eager  to  speak  than  to  eat;  while  out  from 
some  inclosed  apartment  came  notes  of  music  and  mingled 
laughter  of  men  and  women. 

The  emperor  wished  a  separate  room,  but  all  were  occupied, 
and  he  was  requested  to  wait  a  short  time  for  one  that  would 
soon  be  vacated.  He  had  removed  his  mask,  and  although 
there  was  little  fear  of  his  being  recognized  in  that  costume, 
he  chose  a  position  behind  one  of  the  large  pillars  on  the  back 
side  of  the  hall,  which  the  approach  of  evening  already  cast 
into  the  shadow.  There  he  ordered  wine  and  oysters;  and 
while  partaking  of  these,  he  called  a  head-waiter  to  arrange 
with  him  for  a  meal,  so  soon  as  the  two  others  should  arrive. 
During  this  conversation  the  host  perceived  that  he  had  to  do 
with  one  accustomed  to  table  luxuries,  and  politely  communi- 
cated to  him  the  resources  of  the  establishment.  There  was 
much  in  this  immense  court  to  excite  the  curiosity  of  an  in- 
quisitive person  like  Hadrian. 

Food  was  prepared  before  the  eyes  of  the  guests,  that  they 
might  make  their  own  selection  from  the  choicest  articles 
Avhich  the  market  afforded. 

Here  every  variety  of  vegetable  which  Egypt  or  Greece  could 
furnish  was  arranged  in  jjicturesque  piles — there,  fruits  of  every 
form  and  size — in  another  place  were  the  preparations  in  deli- 
cate, gnldon-ln-own  pastry.  Those  filled  with  meat,  fish,  or 
Cuno])us  mussels  were  prepared  in  Alexandria;  others  contain- 
ing fruits  and  flower  petals  were  brought  from  Arsinoe  on  Lake 
Moeris,  in  whose  neighborhood  gardening  and  fruit  raising 
had  been  carried  to  the  highest  perfection. 

Meats  of  every  sort  were  hanging  or  lying  in  their  ajjprojiri- 
ate  locations.  There  were  juicy  hams  from  Cyrene,  Italian 
sausages,  and  cuts  of  fresh  meat,  also  game  and  poultry  in 
great  variety;  and  one  large  space  Avas  occupied  by  a  tank  in 
which  the  finest  scaly  inhabitants  of  the  Nile  and  of  the  in- 
land lakes  of  Upper  Egypt,  as  well  as  the  costly  mursna  and 
other  species  of  Italian  fish,  were  seen  swimming  about. 
Alexandria  crabs,  mussels,  oysters,  and  varieties  from  Cano])us 
and  Klysma  were  kept  fresh  in  rmiuiug  water.     The  smokeci 


212  im;  i;.mii;k()i;. 

provisions  from  Meiulcs  jind  Luke  Mooriswerc  suspended  from 
metal  hooks,  ;ind  in  a  covered  but  jiiry  spot  were  freshly  eiiuglit 
iUh  inim  Mie  Mediternineiui  iind  IJed  Heas.  Every  guest  of 
the  "  Olymi)iau  Table  "  chose  for  himself  the  meat,  fruit,  as- 
paragus, lisli,  or  pastry  which  he  wished  to  have  prepared. 

JiVkortas,  the  liost,  pointed  out  to  Hadrian  an  elderly  man 
who^  in  this  well-ordered  court  of  still  life,  was  choosing  the 
articles  for  an  evening  banquet. 

"All  fine,  all  excellent,'^  said  Hadrian;  "but  the  giuits 
and  flies,  attracted  by  all  this  nuignificence  down  there  are 
quite  intolerable.  The  odor  of  cooking  also  takes  away  my 
a])])etite. " 

"  In  the  side  apartments,"  said  the  host,  "  it  will  be  better. 
The  party  is  already  breaking  up  in  the  one  you  have  engaged. 
Just  behind  here  the  sophist  Demetrius  and  Tancrates  are  en- 
tertaining a  few  gentlemen  from  Eome,  rhetoricians,  phi- 
losoi^hers,  or  something  of  that  sort.  They  have  been  at  table 
discussing  and  contending  since  breakfast-time,  and  now  lamps 
are  being  carried  in.  There  go  the  guests  from  the  next  room. 
Will  you  have  it?'' 

"  Yes,"'  answered  the  emperor;  "  and  when  a  tall  young 
man  asks  for  the  Roman  architect,  Claudius  Venator,  bring 
him  to  me." 

"  So,  then,  you  are  an  architect,  and  no  sophist,  or  rhetori- 
cian?" said  the  host,  eying  him  attentively. 

"  Silenus — a  2:)hiloso2jlier?"' 

"  Oh,  both  the  loud-talking  men  j^onder  go  orduiarily  naked, 
or  with  ragged  mantles  over  their  shoulders.  To-day  they  are 
being  feasted  by  the  rich  Josejihus." 

"  Josephus!  That  is  a  Jewish  name,  but  the  man  seems  to 
be  bravely  attacking  the  ham." 

"  There  Avould  be  more  swine  iii  Cyrene  were  there  no 
Israelites  there!  They  are  Greeks,  like  ourselves,  and  eat  that 
which  suits  their  tastes." 

Hadrian  entered  the  vacated  apartment,  and  after  he  had 
seen  the  slaves  drive  away  the  flies  which  had  gathered  about 
the  table  so  lately  used,  he  stretched  himself  upon  a  couch, 
and  listened  to  the  conversation  of  Favorinus,  Florus,  imd  their 
Greek  guests.  He  knew  the  two  first,  and  his  sharp  ear  fol- 
lowed the  whole  conversation.  Favorinus  was  praising  the 
Alexandrians  in  a  loud  tone,  but  in  fluent  and  beautifully  ac- 
cented Greek.  He  was  a  native  of  Arelas,  in  (xaul,  but  the 
language  of  Demosthenes  never  flowed  more  smoothly  from 
the  lips  of  a  Hellenic  Greek.  He  aflihated  much  more  natu- 
rally with  the  self-i3oised,  keen,  and  active  inhabitants  of  the 


THE   EMPEKOK.  213 

cosmopolitan  African  city  than  with  the  Athenians.  These 
lived  only  in  the  jmst;  the  Alexandrians  dared  to  rejoice  in 
the  jiresent.  Here  he  found  indej^endent  thought;  but  on  the 
Ilissus  men  were  only  servants,  who  made  a  trade  of  their 
learning,  as  the  Alexandrians  trafficked  in  the  merchandise  of 
Africa  and  the  treasures  of  India.  As  he  had  once  fallen  into 
disgrace  with  Hadrian,  the  Athenians  had  overthrown  his 
statue.  The  favor  or  the  disfavor  of  princes  seemed  to  them 
of  more  consequence  than  spiritual  strength,  great  deeds,  or 
high  desert.  Florus  confirmed  the  ideas  of  Favorinus  through- 
out, and  declared  that  lionie  must  free  herself  from  the  intel- 
lectual influence  of  Athens. 

But  Favorinus  did  not  yield  his  point,  and  insisting  that 
each  of  them,  having  passed  the  i:)eriod  of  youth  when  it  is 
hard  to  learn  anything  new,  he  alluded  with  mild  sarcasm  to 
the  famous  work  of  his  table  companion,  in  which  Florus  had 
attempted  to  distribute  the  history  of  Kome  into  four  parts, 
corresponding  with  the  four  ijeriods  of  human  life,  and  had  for- 
gotten the  old  age — treating  of  Eome  only  in  childhood .  youth 
and  manhood.  Favorinus  retorted  that,  like  his  friend  Florus, 
he  had  placed  too  high  a  value  on  the  flexibility  of  lioman 
genius,  and  underrated  that  of  the  Greeks. 

The  answer  of  Florus  was  in  a  voice  so  deej),  and  with  words 
so  bombastic,  that  the  listening  emperor  felt  disposed  to  assist 
him,  and  to  ask  how  many  cuj^s  had  been  taken  by  this  very 
excitable  countryman  since  the  hour  of  breakfast. 

As  Florus  attempted  to  prove  that  Kome — under  the  govern- 
ment of  Hadrian — had  attained  the  summit  of  its  vigor,  he 
was  interrupted  by  his  friend  Demetrius,  with  the  request  that 
he  should  describe  the  personal  apj^earance  of  Hadrian. 

Florus  did  this  willingly,  and  drew  also  a  brilliant  picture  of 
his  skill  in  governing,  his  general  knowledge  and  ability. 

"There  is  only  one  thing  I  do  not  like,"  he  cried,  viva- 
ciously. "  He  is  too  little  in  Eome — now  the  very  heart  of  the 
world.  He  wants  to  see  everything,  and  travels  restlessly 
through  the  provinces.  I  would  not  like  to  exchange  places 
with  him!" 

"  You  have  expressed  that  idea  in  verse,"  broke  in  Fa- 
vorinus. 

"  Only  a  jest  at  a  banquet.  I  make  myself  comfortable  at 
the  '  Olympian  Table  '  of  this  excellent  cook-shop  every  day 
while  M-aiting  the  arrival  of  Hadrian  in  Alexandria." 

"  How  do  the  verses  run?"  asked  Pancrates. 

''  1  have  forgotten  them,  and  they  deserve  no  better  fate/"' 
answered  Florus. 


211  THE   EiirKUOU. 

"  Bui  I  ivmcmbcr  the  bcgiiiuiiig/'  li.uightM.1  tiiu  Caul. 
"■  The  lirst  verse  ruiis  thus,  I  think: 

"  '  Cii'sar  to  be,  I  do  not  covet: 

lu  savage  JJritaiu  to  wander  round, 
In  bitter  Scythia  to  be  snow-bound, 
Such  life  I  leave  to  those  who  love  it.'  "* 

J  Icidriaii  struck  his  fist  into  the  left  hand  with  these  words, 
tind  -while  the  biincpieters  were  speculating  as  to  why  he  re- 
nuiiued  so  long  away  from  Alexandria,  lie  took  the  folding 
tablet  he  was  in  the  habit  of  carrying  in  his  purse,  and 
scratched  rapidly  the  following  verse  in  the  wax: 

"  Florus  to  be,  I  do  not  covet- 
Drinkiufr-shops  to  wander  round 
By  tbe  Garkoch  life  so  bound, 
Where  fat  barrack  insects  feed, 
There  to  bury  thought  and  deed, 
Florus  may — I  do  not  love  it." 

Scarcely  had  he  finished  -writing,  with  evident  internal 
amusement,  when  the  head-waiter  brought  in  Pollux.  He 
luul  not  succeeded  in  finding  Antinous,  but  expressed  the 
opinion  that  the  young  man  had  returned  home;  and  he 
begged  the  emjoeror  to  excuse  him  from  a  long  attendance  at 
the  meal,  since  he  had  just  met  his  master,  Pajiius,  Avho  had 
exiiressed  great  displeasiu-e  at  his  long  absence.  Hadrian  no 
longer  enjoyed  the  society  of  Pollux  as  he  had  during  the  day. 

The  conversation  in  the  next  room  was  far  more  eiitertuin- 
ing  than  that  with  the  honest  t]iongh  uncultivated  fellow.  He- 
sides,  he  was  disturbed  by  the  failure  to  find  Antinous,  and  in- 
clined to  leave  early  on  this  account.  Antinous  could  easily 
find  his  way  to  the  Lochias,  but  a  remembrance  of  the  evil 
tokens,  seen  the  night  before,  flitted,  like  bats  in  a  banquet- 
ing hall,  through  the  air  about  him,  which  he  tried  in  vain  to 
scatter.  Neither  was  Pollux  so  light-hearted  as  before.  He 
was  hungr}',  and  applied  liimself  to  the  excellent  dishes  so 
vigorously  and  emi)tied  the  cujjs  so  rapidly  that  the  em])eror 
was  astonished,  but  the  more  he  thought  the  less  he  said.  The 
reproaches  of  Pa])ias  had  roused  him  to  declare,  shortly  and 
decisivel}^,  his  determination  to  quit  the  service  of  a  master 
and  stand  upon  his  own  feet,  and  he  Avas  in  haste  to  make  this 
fact  known  to  his  parents  and  to  Arsinoe. 

AVhile  at  the  table,  the  advice  of  his  mother,  to  seek  the  favor 

*  Verses  of  Hadrian  and  Antinous,  preserved  liy  tfpartianus,  trans 
latcd  by  Mrs,  C.  B.  CJhambcrs. 


THE   EMrEROR.  215 

and  assistance  of  the  Iioman  areliitect,  oocnrrcd  toliis  thoughts; 
but  he  had  neglected  to  do  so,  jiartly  from  an  unwillingness 
to  be  under  obligation  to  any  one,  and  partly  because  the  long 
hours  of  intercourse  since  morin"ng  had  only  strengthened  his 
impression  of  the  man's  superiority  to  himself  rather  than  in- 
creased his  familiarity. 

He  felt  a  strange  shrinking  from  the  restless,  inquisitive 
gray-beard  who  asked  so  many  questions,  and,  even  while 
silent,  looked  so  unapjiroachably  profound  that  one  would  not 
venture  to  disturb  him. 

The  bold  sculptor  had  nevertheless  attempted  to  break 
through  this  feeling  of  restraint,  but  retired  each  time  with 
the  consciousness  of  having  made  an  awkward  failure.  He 
seemed,  in  comparison  with  Claudius  Venator,  like  a  dog  play- 
ing with  a  lion;  a  game  that  could  lead  to  no  good  result  for 
the  dog.  So,  for  many  reasons,  both  host  and  guest  were  glad 
when  the  meal  was  over. 

Before  Pollux  went  out  the  emperor  gave  him  the  tablet 
containing  the  verse,  with  the  smiling  request  that  he  would 
send  it,  through  the  gate-keeper  of  the  Ca?sareum.  to  ATmanis 
Florus,  the  Eoman.  He  begged  him  also  to  look  for  Antin- 
ous,  and,  if  he  should  find  him  on  the  Lochias,  to  say  that  he 
would  soon  return  thither. 

Pollux  went  on  his  way.  Hadrian,  having  listened  for  an- 
other hour  to  the  conversation  near  him,  without  hearing  any 
new  mention  of  himself,  jDaid  his  reckoning  and  went  out  into 
the  brilliantly  illuminated  streets,  mixed  with  the  jovial  crowd, 
but,  depressed  and  uneasy  about  his  favorite,  made  slow  prog- 
ress toward  the  Lochias. 


CHAPTER  m. 

Antinous  wandered  among  the  crowd,  seeking  his  master. 
Whenever  he  saw  two  esjDecially  tall  men  together,  he  followed, 
only  to  find  that  he  had  pursued  a  false  impression.  Earnest 
and  jjersevering  ofi'ort  was  not  one  of  his  natural  qualities;  so 
when  he  became  tired  he  sat  down  upon  a  bench  in  the  Panium 
garden. 

Two  cynical  philosoj)hers,  with  unkempt  hair,  bristling 
beards,  and  ragged  l)lankets  about  their  shivering  bodies,  sat 
down  near  him,  and  began  to  utter  loud  invectives  against  that 
devotion  to  outward  thiiigs  and  low  enjoyments  which  char- 
acterized the  present  day,  making  sensual  indulgence  and  dis- 
play, iiistead  of  rngged  virtue,  the  end  of  being.  In  order  to 
be  heard  as  far  as  possible,  they  spoke  m  loud  voices,  and  the 


216  THE  EMPEROR. 

elder  of  them  swung  a  knotty  staff  witli  all  the  vehemence 
necessary  to  repel  an  attack  of  savages. 

Antinoiis  was  disgusted  by  their  ugly  looks,  rude  manners, 
and  screeching  voices;  but  he  thought  jierhaps  Hadrian  would 
have  been  amused  by  their  appearance.  Their  remarks  were 
evidently  aimed  at  Antinous,  for  as  he  rose  to  leave  they  fol- 
lowed him  with  reviling  words,  ridiculing  his  costume  and  his 
anointed  hair. 

'I'he  Bithyjiian  made  no  reply,  but  sauntered  onward,  with 
no  special  plan,  only  noticing  that  the  street  ran  toward  the 
sea,  and  from  thence  he  could  easily  find  his  way  to  the 
Lochias. 

It  was  growing  dark  when  he  reached  the  gate-keeper's 
house,  and  learned  from  Doris  that  the  emperor  and  x'ollux 
had  not  returned.  ^Yhat  could  he  do  alone  in  the  wioe,  deso- 
late palace?  Were  not  even  the  slaves  free  on  this  day?  Why 
should  not  he  also,  for  once,  roam  unrestrained  like  the 
others?  Pleased  with  the  thought  of  being  liis  own  master, 
and  wandering  where  he  would,  he  strolled  backward  until  he 
came  upon  the  booth  of  one  selling  wreaths,  which  reminded 
him  vividly  of  Selene  and  the  flowers  which  must  long  since 
have  reached  her.  He  knew  that  she  was  being  iiursed  among 
the  Christians,  in  a  little  house  near  the  sea.  "Pollux  had  be- 
come quite  animated  in  describing  his  glimiDse  into  the  litdited 
room  where  she  lay. 

_"  Always  beautiful,"  he  said;  "  but  never  more  lovely  than 
lying  in  her  pallor  upon  the  couch.'' 

Antinous  determined  to  venture  one  more  look  upon  the  girl 
whose  image  filled  his  heart  and  mind,  and  thinking  he  might 
stand  in  the  same  place  where  Pollux  had  been  on  the  previous 
evening,  he  mounted  the  first  sedan  which  appeared. 

The  black  bearers  were  too  slow  for  his  eagerness,  and  more 
than  once  he  flung  them  as  much  gold  as  they  ordinarily  earned 
in  a  week,  to  stimulate  their  progress.  At  last  they  reached 
the  gate,  but  seeing  several  white-robed  figures  in  the  garden 
he  ordered  the  bearers  to  go  further.  In  a  dark  and  narrow 
street  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  estate  of  the  M'idow  of  Piidens, 
he  descended,  and  bid  the  sedan  wait  for  him.  Before  the 
garden  gate  he  met  two  men  in  white  robes,  and  one  of  the 
cynics  who  had  sat  upon  the  same  bench  in  the  Panium  gar- 
den. Impatiently  striding  up  and  down  while  he  waited  for 
t  hese  ])enple  to  disappear,  he  passed  frequently  the  space  lighted 
l»y  the  lamps  hanging  at  the  i)ortal.  The  waiulering  eyes  of 
the  cynic  remarked  him,  and  Hinging  u})  his  long,  bony  arms, 
and   i)ointing  toward  the   r.ithyiiiaii,  he  cried,  partly  to  the 


THE   EMPEROR.  217 

Christians  with  whom  he  was  talking,  and  partly  to  the  youtli 
himself: 

"  What  does  that  coxcomb,  that  fine  dandy,  want  here?  I 
know  the  fellow  with  the  smooth  face,  and  the  silver  quiver  on 
liis  shoulder.  One  would  suppose  he  thought  himself  to  be 
Cupid  in  earnest.  Out  of  the  wa}^,  you  rat!  The  ladies  in 
here  know  how  to  guard  themselves  from  street  loafers  in 
rose-colored  rags.  Out  of  the  way,  or  you  may  make  acquaint- 
ance with  the  dogs  and  the  slaves  of  the  noble  Paulina.  Hey, 
door-keeper!     Look  out  for  this  fellow!" 

Antinous  made  no  re-plj,  but  walked  slowly  toward  the  jDlace 
where  he  had  left  the  sedan,  saying  to  himself:  "  Perhaps  to- 
morrow, if  I  can  not  to-day;"  thinking,  as  he  went  on,  of  no 
scheme  through  which  he  might  attain  his  Vv'ish.  The  sedan 
was  not  where  he  had  left  it.  Its  bearers  had  gone  into  the 
next  street,  where  was  a  little  house  belonging  to  a  fisherman, 
whose  wife  sold  a  species  of  thin  Felusian  beer;  and  Antinous 
Avent  up  to  the  little  inclosure  where  the  black  women  sat  un- 
der a  cover  of  twisted  fig-branches,  and  by  the  light  of  an  oil 
lamp,  to  call  them.  It  was  quite  dark  in  the  street,  l^ut  at 
the  end  of  it  he  saw  the  moonlight  glancing  on  the  water. 
The  plashing  of  the  weaves  enticed  him  toward  the  pebbly 
shore.  As  he  noticed  there  a  boat  tossing  between  the  posts 
to  which  it  was  fastened,  the  thought  struck  him  that  perhaps 
he  might  see  the  house  in  which  Selene  was  lying  from  the  sea 
itself.  To  loosen  the  boat  from  its  moorings  was  the  work  of 
a  moment,  and  as  he  took  his  place  within  it  he  laid  down 
bow  and  quiver  and,  seizing  the  oars,  rowed  with  reguJar 
stroke  along  the  shore  toward  the  white  striji,  which  seemed 
also  to  bo  the  goal  of  the  silver-tij^ped  waves.  There  lay  the 
garden  of  the  widow  of  Pudens,  and  the  little  white  house  he 
could  see  from  here  must  be  the  one  where  the  fair,  pale 
Selene  was  lying;  but  he  could  not  get  sight  of  the  window 
Pollux  had  described.  Would  it  not  be  possible  to  find  some  spot 
where  he  could  jDut  in  with  his  boat  and  succeed  in  entering 
the  garden?  There  lay  two  boats,  but  the  walled  canal  in 
which  they  rested  was  closed  from  the  sea  by  a  grated  door. 

A  platform  extending  into  the  sea,  and  surroanded  by  a 
columned  balcony,  made  the  place  unapproachable.  But  as 
he  looked  longer  and  more  intently,  he  descried  a  narrow 
flight  of  white  marble  steps  parting  the  wall.  Antinous 
dropped  one  oar  into  the  water,  and  was  turning  the  boat  to- 
ward (liat  spot,  \d\on  his  attention  was  arrested  by  tlie  appear- 
ance of  a  white-robed  figure,  with  streaming  hair,  iqwn  the 
platform.     How  strangely  it  moved!  tottering  a  few  steps, 


21 S  THE   EMPEROR. 

iuid  tlioii  standinf(  .still,  with  both  hiuids  raised  to  the  head! 
Antinous  instijictivcly  shuddered,  and  remembered  the  demons 
of  whieh  Hadrian  occasionally  spoke — beings  belonging  partly 
to  the  human  race,  and  jiartly  to  the  gods,  and  which  some- 
times a2)peared  to  the  dying.  Or  was  .Selene  dead,  and  could 
this  be  her  Avaudering  ghost?  lie  held  his  boat  steadily  and 
gazed  at  the  figure  with  suspended  breath,  which  had  now 
reached  tlie  balustrade  of  the  i)latform,  whore  he  could  see  it 
distinctly — with  both  hands  pressed  against  the  face,  bending 
over  the  parapet,  and  now — 

As  a  star  falls  from  the  clear  night  sky,  or  in  autumn  the 
rii)e  fruit  from  the  branch,  so  dropped  this  white-robed  figure 
from  the  iilatform.  One  loud  cry  broke  the  silence,  and 
Avithin  the  same  moment  he  heard  a  plashing  in  the  water, 
and  the  spii-ting  drops  thrown  uj)ward  played  and  glanced  in 
the  beams  of  the  moon. 

"Was  it  the  dreamer  Antinous  who  now  instantly  pnt  liis  oars 
into  the  water,  and  with  a  few  vigorous  strokes  brought  it  to 
the  sjiot  where  the  drowning  figure  rose  to  the  surface  a 
few  seconds  after  its  plunge,  and  then  bending  over  the  side 
seized  the  garments  of  something,  which,  being  neither  demon 
nor  shadow,  he  drew  out  of  the  water?  He  succeeded  in  lift- 
ing it,  but  in  trying  to  pull  it  into  the  boat  lost  his  balance, 
the  boat  capsized,  and  Antinous  slid  into  the  sea.  After  him 
jilunged  the  silver  bow  and  quiver.  The  Bithynianwas  a  good 
swimmer.  Before  the  white  figure  again  smik  he  had  seized  it 
with  one  hand,  and,  swimming  with  his  feet  and  the  one  free 
arm,  succeeded  in  reaching  the  marble  steps  he  had  Ijcfore 
noticed.  When  his  feet  touched  firm  ground  he  lifted  the 
rescued  body  with  both  hands,  and  hastened  up  the  jilatform 
to  a  bench.  The  broad  marble  fiagging  shone  in  the  light  of 
the  moon — seeming  almost  to  shed  an  inde2)endent  gleam. 
As  lie  laid  his  wet,  and,  perhaps,  lifeless  burden  upon  the 
bench,  a  faint  groan  gave  him  the  lio})e  that  his  labor  had  not 
been  in  vain.  'Jlien,  carefully  sujijwrting  the  head  upon  one 
arm,  he  parted  the  wet  hair  from  the  face,  and  as  if  struck  by 
lightning,  sunk  iqwn  his  knees  before  the  fair  'paie  face  of 
tSelene — for  it  was  she  that  he  had  rescued!  she  before  Avliom 
he  knelt! 

Quite  beside  himself,  and  trendjling  from  head  to  foot,  he 
put  his  ear  to  her  lips,  to  be  sure  he  had  not  been  deceived, 
and  to  learn  if  any  breath  found  its  way  through  their  motion- 
less niar])Ie. 

Yes,  she  breathed,  she  lived! 

In  a  transport  of  joy  he  pressed  his  own  cheek  against  hers. 


THE    EMPEROK.  219 

Oh,  how  cold,  liow  ic}',  liow  deatli-like!  Tho  si^irk  ol"  lil'c 
glimmered  but  faintly,  yet  lie  could  not,  would  not,  let  it  lie 
extinguished — and,  as  thouglitfidly,  as  quickly,  and  decidedly 
as  the  most  vigorous  of  men,  he  raised  her  in  his  arms,  as 
though  she  were  a  mere  child,  and  bore  her  to  the  house  whose 
white  wall  was  revealed  by  the  moonlight. 

The  lam}!  in  the  room  Selene  had  so  lately  left  was  still 
burning,  and  before  the  window  through  which  the  light  luul 
shone  to  guide  his  steps,  lay  the  flowers  whose  fragrance  had 
caused  so  much  misery,  together  with  the  fragments  of  a  jior- 
celain  vase. 

Were  these  flowers  his  gift?  Perhai^s  so.  And  this  room, 
into  which  he  looked,  must  be  the  one  Pollux  had  described. 
The  house  door  stood  oj^en,  and  that  into  the  dej)artment  he 
entered  to  lay  Selene  on  the  bed.  She  looked  like  one  dead, 
and  as  he  looked  upon  the  face  Avhicli  bore  such  traces  of 
suffering  his  heart  was  touched  by  a  compassion  never  before 
experienced.  And  as  a  brother  might  bend  over  a  slumbering 
sister,  so  did  he  bend  and  kiss  the  forehead  of  Selene.  She 
stirred,  and,  opening  her  eyes,  stared  into  liis  face  with  such 
terror  and  bewilderment — the  look  of  her  eyes  was  so  glassy 
and  weird — that  he  stepj^ed  back  shuddering,  and  with  lifted 
hands,  could  only  ejaculate:  "Oh,  Selene,  do  you  not  know 
me?'' 

She  did  not  seem  to  hear  his  question,  but  her  eyes  wildly 
followed  his  every  motion. 

"  Selene!"  he  cried  again,  seizing  her  limp  hand  and  jiress- 
ing  it  fervently  to  his  lips.  Then  she  uttered  a  loud  cry,  a 
shiver  ran  through  her  frame,  and  she  broke  into  sighs  and 
groans.  In  the  same  moment  a  door  ojoened  and  Maria  en- 
tered, Avho  at  sight  of  Antinous  standing  beside  the  bed  of  her 
friend  gave  expression  to  a  scream  of  terror;  and  he,  like  a 
startled  thief,  rushed  out  of  the  house  and  through  the  garden 
toward  the  gate.  Here  the  porter  op2)osed  his  progress;  but 
lie  ])ut  him  aside  with  one  vigorous  effort,  burst  the  gate,  and 
though  the  gray-haired  gate-keeper  clutched  at  his  garments, 
he  fled,  leaving  a  part  of  his  chiton  in  his  hand,  and  raced,  like 
a  comjietitor  in  the  gymnasium,  through  the  streets  initil  be- 
yond the  reach  of  his  pursuer.  The  cry  of  the  porter,  min- 
gling with  the  pious  songs,  startled  the  Christians  assembled 
in  the  house  of  Paulina,  a  few  of  whom  hastened  out  to  arrest 
the  disturber  of  their  worslii]i. 

i^ut  the  young  Bithynian  was  quicker  thai  1  llu-y,  and  thought 
liimself  well  hidden  from  pursuit  in  the  midst  of  a  festal  train 
which  was  moving  from  the  city  toward  a  lonely  spot  on  the 


230  THE    EMPEROK. 

scii-slioro,  fast  of  Necropolis,  for  the  cclclinitioii  of  some  dark 
mysteries.  'J'he  jwiiit  toward  which  this  singing,  liowling  liost 
of  drunken  fanatics  bore  Antinous  was  between  Alexandria 
and  C'anoi)Us,  very  far  from  the  Lochias.  80  it  happened 
that  it  was  long  after  midnight  before  Antinous,  with  torn 
garments,  covered  with  dirt,  and  quite  breathless,  was  able  to 
reach  Hadrian. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Hadrian  had  been  exjjecting  Antinous  for  several  hours, 
and  his  im})atience  and  displeasure  were  outwardly  manifested 
through  a  frowning  brow^  and  threatening  glance. 

*'  Where  have  you  been?"  he  asked,  in  an  imperious  tone. 

"  I  tried  first  to  find  you,  then  I  took  a  boat  and  rowed  out 
into  the  sea." 

"  You  are  telhng  an  untruth." 

Antinous  answered  only  by  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders. 

"  Were  vou  alone?"  asked  Hadrian,  more  mildly. 

''Yes.""  ^ 

"  "Where  did  you  go?" 

"  I  looked  atlhe  stars." 

"  You?" 

"  May  I  not  follow  your  example?" 

"  Why  not?  They  shine  as  well  for  fools  as  for  the  wise. 
Even  asses  are  born  under  good  or  evil  stars.  80  one  grows 
gray  in  possession  of  a  hungry  gi-ammarian  who  feeds  him  on 
old  papyrus,  while  another,  who  happens  to  fall  into  the  posses- 
sion of  an  emperor,  grows  fat,  and  has  time  to  stare  at  the 
sky.     How  you  look!" 

"  The  boat  captized  with  me  and  I  fell  into  the  sea." 

Hadrian  was  startled,  and  as  he  noticed  the  tousled  hair, 
stiff  with  salt  water,  and  his  torn  chiton,  he  said,  anxiously: 

"  Go  instantly,  and  let  Master  rub  and  anoint  j'ou.  "  He 
came  back  also  looking  like  a  whipped  dog,  and\vith  red 
eyes.  All  heads  seem  turned  on  this  cursed  evening.  You 
look  like  a  slave  Avho  has  been  hunted  by  dogs.  Drink  a  few 
cu])s  of  wine  aTid  go  to  bed. " 

''  As  you  command,  great  Ca^§ar. " 

"  Really?     My  '  ass  '  has  made  you  angry." 

"  "i'ou  were  wont  to  find  kind  words  for  me." 

"  And  1  shall  find  them  again.  But  not  to-night:  go  now 
to  bed. "  ^     " 

Antinous  took  himself  away,  but  the  emperor  Avalked  up 
^ud  down  the  room  with  long  strides  and  arms  crossed  over  liis 


THE   EMPEROE.  221 

breast,  and  downcast  eyes.  His  superstitious  mind  had  been 
made  uneasy  by  a  series  of  bad  signs,  which  not  only  last  night 
on  the  sky,  but  during  his  return  to  the  Lochias,  had  met  him, 
and  seemed  ah-eady  to  be  finding  fuifillment. 

Leaving  the  eating-house  in  bad  liumor,  and  annoyed  by  the 
nnhicky  signs,  if  he  had  done  things  which  he  ah'eady  re- 
gretted, they  certainly  should  not  have  been  attributed  to  the 
influence  of  evil  demons,  but  were  simply  due  to  his  own 
morose  mood.  It  might  j)0ssibly  have  been  set  down  to  some 
outside  influence  that  he  was  witness  of  the  attack  of  an  ex- 
cited crowd  on  the  house  of  a  rich  Jew,  on  which  occasion  he 
was  met  and  recognized  by  Verus.  Bad  spirits  may  have  been 
busy,  but  that  Avhich  hajipened  later  on  the  Lochias  would 
certainly  not  have  occurred  had  Hadrian  been  in  a  hapjiier 
mood.  For  that  he  alone  was  responsible,  and  no  accident  or 
malicious  demon.  Certainly  that  would  be  an  easy  way  of 
shifting  a  burdensome  duty,  or  making  a  jjast  deed  seem  good; 
but  conscience  is  a  tablet  ujDon  which  a  secret  hand  inscribes 
all  our  deeds,  and  jsitilessly  calls  them  by  their  right  names. 
Sometimes  we  may  succeed  for  a  longer  or  shorter  time  in 
blotting  or  erasing  the  record,  but  the  characters  reappear, 
dejjicted  with  a  weird  brilliancy  which  the  inward  eye  is  com- 
pelled to  notice. 

Hadrian  felt  himself  constrained  tliis  night  to  read  the 
record  of  his  misdeeds,  and  though  among  them  he  found  some 
bloody  wrongs — some  frivolities  unworthy  even  of  an  ordinary 
man — yet  the  tablet  preserved  also  the  record  of  many  sternly 
fulfilled  duties — of  restless  striving  after  great  ends,  and  un- 
wearied effort  to  stretch  tlie  sensitive  threads  of  his  sjjirit  to 
the  utmost  limits  of  human  thought  and  sense.  But  in  this 
hour  Hadrian  thought  of  his  evil  and  unworthy  deeds,  and  he 
made  a  vow  to  those  gods  he  sometimes  ridiculed  with  his  jiliil- 
osoiAical  points,  but  toward  whom  he  always  turned  when 
strength  or  means  failed — here  to  build  a  temple,  there  to  otter 
sacrifices  for  the  expiation  of  his  sins,  and  to  ai^pcase  their 
wrath.  He  seemed  to  himself  like  some  great  man  threatened 
with  disgrace,  who  seeks  by  gifts  to  win  back  the  favor  of  liis 
superior. 

The  courageous  Roman  shrunk. from  imaginary  danger,  and 
knew  nothing  of  the  healing  smart  of  repentance.  Scarcely 
an  hour  before  he  had  so  far  forgotten  himself  as  to  misuse 
his  power  toward  a  weaker  man,  and  the  memory  of  it  vexed 
him;  but  the  thought  of  humbling  himself  and  of  rendering  sat- 
isfaction to  the  person  wronged  never  entered  his  mind. 

Sometimes  he  deeply  felt  his  human  weakness — but  again,  it 


222  THE   EMPEROn. 

M'as  quite  possible  to  helievc  in  llio  kiiisliip  of  liis  own  imperial 
person  to  the  gods.  Tluit  was  easiest  whvn  any  one  ha<l  dared 
to  vex  ]iim  or  failed  to  recognize  his  superiority.  JJid  not 
the  heaviest  2)unishnients  of  the  gods  ever  fall  upon  their  de- 
spisers? 

To-day,  this  mortal  Jupiter  had  again  smitten  with  his 
thunder-bolt  a  too  bold  son  of  earth,  and  this  time  the  victim 
had  been  the  son  of  Euphorion.  Pollux  hiiA  indeed  been  so 
unfortunate  as  to  touch  rudely  the  weak  point  of  Hadrian  s 
character;  but  one  is  not  often  so  instantly  changed  from  a 
friendly  well-wisher  to  a  hostile  adversary — never — unless,  as 
was  true  of  the  emperor,  accustomed  to  spring  from  one  mood 
into  its  opposite,  and  is  conscious  of  the  power  to  carry  out 
his  good  or  bad  fechugs  into  deeds.  The  real  ability  of  Pollux 
had  at  first  won  the  regard  of  Hadrian;  his  fresh,  independent 
nature  had  pleased  and  amused  him,  but  during  their  inter- 
course on  the  street,  his  confident  manner  of  placing  himself 
ui)on  the  same  level  had  become  annoying.  In  the  workshop 
he  had  seen  only  the  sculptor,  and  enjoyed  his  superabundant 
overflow  of  vigor;  outside,  and  among  men  of  the  ordinary 
sort,  in  whom  he  generally  inspired  awe,  his  speech  and  bear- 
ing seemed  bold,  unbecoming,  and  almost  intolerable.  At  the 
table,  the  vigorous  eater  and  drinker,  seeking  to  amuse  b}'^  his 
facetiousness,  and  careful  not  to  make  a  gift  to  the  landlord, 
excited  his  repugnance. 

And  then  Hadrian,  out  of  humor,  and  filled  with  forebod- 
ings of  evil,  had  returned  to  the  Lochias  without  Antinous, 
and  failing  to  find  him  there,  walked  restlessly  up  and  down 
the  Hall  of  the  Muses,  disdaining  all  conversation  with  Pollux, 
who  was  noisily  at  work  behind  his  screen. 

Pollux  had  been  as  unfortuiuite  as  Hadrian.  In  the  first 
place,  going  into  the  neighborhood  of  the  overseer's  house, 
ho})ing  to  see  Arsinoe,  Keraunus  had  met  and  sent  him  away 
with  contemptuous  words.  Peturning  to  the  Hall  of  the 
Muses,  he  had  a  contest  with  Papias,  who  became  angry  on 
hearing  a  renewed  mention  of  his  determination  to  be  inde- 
])endent,  and  ordered  him  to  pack  u})  his  tools  and  leave  the 
Lochias  immediately,  and  to  keep  away  also  from  his  own 
house.  Unpleasant  words  had  been  exchanged,  and  as  Pollux 
sought  Pontius  to  speak  with  him  over  future  plans,  he  had 
the  additional  misfortune  to  find  that  he  had  left  the  palace 
and  would  not  return  that  evening.  So  he  determined  to  fol- 
low the  command  of  Papias.  AVithout  noticing  the  presence 
of  the  em])eror  in  the  hall,  he  ])egan  the  separation  of  his  own 
hammers,  chisels  and  other  tools,  from  those  of  Papias,  throw- 


THE  EM  PEKOE.  223 

ing  them  into  two  separate  chests  with  as  much  violence  as  if 
visiting  punishment  u^^on  the  innocent  tools  for  that  which 
had  befallen  himself. 

At  length  the  bust  of  Balbilla,  made  by  Hadrian,  fell  under 
his  eye.  The  hateful  caricature,  over  which  he  had  laughed 
the  day  before,  angered  him ;  and  after  looking  at  it  for  a  mo- 
ment, his  blood  boiled,  and  he  suddenly  tore  a  lath  from  the 
wall  of  his  inclosure,  and  struck  upon  the  image  so  violently 
that  the  dry  clay  was  broken  and  scattered  through  the  space. 

The  strange  noise  induced  the  em23eror  to  pause  and  learn 
its  cause. 

Unnoticed  by  Pollux,  he  witnessed  the  work  of  destruction, 
and  became  so  much  enraged  that  his  brows  contracted  in 
threatenhig  folds,  and  a  blue  vein  stood  out  prominently  in 
his  forehead.  This  master  of  statecraft  could  more  easily  bear 
complaint  of  his  power  to  govern  than  to  witness  contempt 
cast  ujwn  his  artistic  work. 

He  that  knows  his  own  w^ork  to  be  worthy  can  laugh  at 
criticism,  but  if  he  be  uncertain  of  its  merit,  and  has  reason 
to  fear  comment,  easily  comes  to  hate  the  person  who  makes  it. 

Hadrian  was  trembling  with  wrath,  and  doubled  his  fist  as 
he  aj^proached  Pollux,  asking: 

"  What  docs  this  mean?" 

Pollux  looked  at  the  emj^eror,  and  raising  his  arm  for  an- 
other blow,  exclaimed: 

'*  I  am  putting  this  caricature  out  of  existence,  because  it 
offends  me." 

"  Come  here,^'  cried  the  emperor,  and  seizing  with  his 
nervous  hand  the  girdle  of  the  chiton  Pollux  wore,  dragged 
him  before  the  Urania,  tore  the  lath  out  of  his  hand,  struck 
off  the  scarcely  finished  head,  and  cried,  imitating  the  tone  of 
Pollux: 

"  I  am  putting  this  ijicce  of  bungling  out  of  existence,  be- 
cause it  offends  me." 

Pollux  dropped  his  arms.  Astonished,  as  well  as  irritated, 
he  stared  at  the  destroyer  of  his  work,  crying  in  his  face: 
"'  Mad  man,  that  is  enough.  One  stroke  more,  and  you  will 
make  acquaintance  with  my  fist." 

Hadrian  laughed  coolly  and  sarcastically — threw  the  lath  at 
the  feet  of  Pollux,  saying: 

"  Judgmoit  against  judgmeiit;  that  is  only  fair." 

"Fair!"  cried  Pollux,  beside  himself.  "Your  miserable 
dabble,  which  my  squint-eyed  apprentice  could  have  made  as 
well  as  you;  and  only  the  creation  of  an  idle  hour.  Fy  upon 
you!    liut  if  you  touch  my  Urania  again  you  will  learn — " 


224  THE   EMPEKOK. 

"  AVhat?" 

"  Tliiit  ill  Ali'xaiulria  gray-beards  are  spared  only  so  long  as 
they  (iL'scrvc  it." 

Hadrian  folded  his  arms,  and  steppiiig  nearer  to  Pollux  said: 

*'  lie  careful,  fellow,  if  life  be  dear  lo  you." 

Pollux  retreated  before  the  mighty  man,  and  the  scales  fell 
from  his  eyes. 

This  was  exactly  the  position  of  the  statue  of  the  enijiei-or 
in  the  Ogesareiini.  The  architect  Claudius  Venator  was  Had- 
rian. 

The  young  sculptor  turned  pale,  and  said,  with  drooping 
head,  and  in  a  faint  voice,  as  he  turned  away: 

"Might  always  makes  right.  Let  me  go.  I  am  only  a 
poor  sculptor;  you  are  something  quite  different.  Now  1  am 
sure  you  are  the  emperor. " 

"  I  am  he,"  replied  Hadrian,  grinding  his  teeth;  ''and  if 
you  think  more  of  yourself  as  a  sculptor  than  of  me,  I  will 
show  you  which  of  us  is  sparrow,  and  which  eagle. " 

"'  You  have  the  j'ower  to  annihilate  me,  and  I  will  certain- 

ly-" 

"  I  am  the  only  one  here  who  has  the  right  to  wiU,"  cried 
the  ruler,  "  and  I  tcill  that  you  do  not  again  enter  this  palace 
or  come  under  my  eyes.  I  shall  consider  the  fate  of  your 
kindred.  Not  one  word  more!  Away  with  you,  I  say,  and 
you  can  thank  the  gods  that  I  endure  the  outrage  of  an  im- 
mature creature  more  leniently  than  you  deserve,  in  daring  to 
judge  the  work  of  one  so  much  greater  than  yourself,  althougli 
you  knew  it  to  have  been  only  the  pastime  of  an  idle  hour. 
Out  with  you,  fellow,  and  my  slaves  shall  finish  the  breaking 
up  of  your  work  yonder,  because  it  deserves  no  better  fate, 
and  because — what  did  you  say  just  now?  Ah!  I  have  it;  and 
because  it  offends  me!" 

A  dry  laugh  echoed  after  the  youth  as  he  left  the  hall. 

Standing  in  the  shadow  of  the  outside  door  he  found  Pa})ias 
who  had  heard  what  passed  between  him  and  the  em])er(»r. 
As  Pollux  met  Doris  he  cried  out:  "  Oh,  mother,  mothei-! 
What  a  morning,  and  what  an  evening!  Fortune  is  nothing 
but  the  threshold  of  misfortune." 


CHAPTER  V. 

Whtlk  Pollux,  with  his  symi)athizing  mother  was  waiting 
Hie  return  of  Eu])horion,  I'apias  seized  the  ojiportunity  of  in- 
gratiating himself  with  Hadrian,  though  he  pretended  still  to 


THE   EMPEROK.  225 

tliiiik  him  the  architect  Chiudius  Venator.  Aurelius  Verus, 
wliom  the  Alexandrians  called  "  the  falae  Eros/^  had  also 
passed  through  a  serious  experience. 

In  the  afternoon  he  had  invited  the  empress  to  go  out  with 
him  and  see  the  festal  crowd — in  disguise,  if  she  should  so 
choose — but  Sabina  was  in  a  bad  humor,  declared  herself  to  be 
suffering,  and  assured  him  that  the  noisy  whirl  would  drive 
her  out  of  life.  And  what  better  re])orter  could  one  liave,  she 
asked,  than  she  had  in  Verus,  and  so  be  spared  the  dust  and 
the  bad  air  of  the  city,  and  the  confusion  of  the  crowd. 

No  sooner  had  Lucilla  begged  her  husband  to  consider  her 
dignity,  and  not  mingle  witli  the  excited  populace,  at  least 
after  dark,  than  Sabina  commissioned  him  to  take  observation 
of  all  which  the  occasion  offered  worthy  of  attention,  and, 
above  all,  those  things  peculiar  to  Alexandria. 

After  sunset  Verus  visited  first  an  eating-house,  where  he 
gave  a  banquet  to  the  veterans  of  the  Twelfth  Legion,  who 
had  been  with  him  on  the  battle-field  fighting  the  Xumidians. 
For  an  hour  he  drank  with  the  brave  old  fellows,  and  left 
them  for  a  visit  to  the  Canopic  way,  only  a  short  distance 
from  tlie  banquetiug-house. 

This  street  was  brilliantly  illuminated,  and  all  the  great 
houses  behind  the  colonnade,  with  one  exception,  were  adorned 
in  honor  of  the  occasion.  This  house  belonged  to  Apollodorus, 
the  Jew. 

In  previous  years  the  handsomest  carpets  had  been  sus- 
pended from  his  windows.  It  was  as  gayly  decorated  with 
ilowers  and  lamjis  as  that  beloi^ging  to  any  other  Jew  on  the 
street,  who  shared  in  this  festivity  of  their  heathen  fellow- 
citizens  with  as  much  zeal  as  if  they  also  rendered  homage  to 
Dionysius. 

Ajiollodorus  had  special  reasons  for  holding  himself  aloof  on 
this  occasion,  and  without  a  susj^icion  of  the  danger  this  might 
ejitail,  he  sat  quietly  in  the  midst  of  the  j)rincely  magnificence 
of  his  dwelling,  which  seemed  far  more  aijpi'opriate  for  a 
Greek  than  for  a  Jew.  This  was  S2)ecially  striking  in  the 
ajmrtments  of  the  men  Avhere  Apollodorus  was  passing  the 
evening.  The  j^aintings  on  the  walls,  and  the  floor  of  the 
handsome  room,  whose  half-oiDcned  covering  was  supported  by 
pillars  of  noble  porphyry,  portrayed  the  loves  of  Psyche  and 
Eros.  Between  the  columns  were  busts  of  the  most  famous 
heatlien  philosophers,  and  at  the  further  end  was  a  statue  of 
Plato.  Among  the  many  portraits  and  busts  there  Avas  only 
one  Israelite,  and  that  was  ]'hilo,  whose  clear-cut  and  striking 


22G  THE   EMrEROR. 

features  were  among  the  most  striking  of  his  illustrious  (Jrcck 
companions. 

In  this  liandsomc  apartment,  Apolloclorus,  a  well-preserved 
nuin  of  fifty,  reclined  upon  a  luxui'ious  couch,  looking  -witli 
mild  l)ut  shrewd  expression  ujjon  a  stately  old  man  of  tlie 
same  faith,  who  walked  up  and  down  before  him,  in  animated 
speech,  with  his  hands  in  constant  motion — sometimes  in  gest- 
ure, sometimes  stroking  his  snowy  beard. 

A  younger  and  slenderer  man,  with  pale,  well-formed,  feat- 
ures and  raven  locks  and  beard,  sat  opposite  his  host,  with 
dark  brilliant  eyes  fastened  on  the  floor,  where  he  described 
imaginary  curves  and  circles  with  his  cane;  while  his  excited, 
uncle,  the  old  man,  addressed  Ajiollodorus  in  passionate  and 
flowing  Avords,  who  frequently  shook  his  head,  and  sometimes 
mtule  a  short  reply. 

It  was  easy  to  see  that  he  was  painfully  affected  by  what  he 
heard,  and  that  these  men  of  such  different  temperaments 
were  on  the  verge  of  a  quarrel. 

Though  both  spoke  the  Greek  language  and  professed  the 
same  religious  faith,  their  views  were  as  diverse  as  though  they 
had  sprung  from  radically  different  sources. 

A\'hen  two  contestants  stand  far  apart  the  weapons  may 
clash,  but  they  do  not  come  to  bloody  wounds,  to  victory,  or 
surroider.  It  was  for  the  sake  of  this  old  man  and  his  nephew 
that  the  house  of  Apollodorus  M'as  to-day  left  without  decora- 
tion, for  the  Ivabbi  (jamaliel,  who  had  yesterday  arrived  from 
Palestine,  at  the  house  of  this  Alexandrian  relative,  condemned 
all  intercourse  with  the  heathen,  and  would  certainly  have  left 
the  dwelling  of  his  guest  had  he  ventured  to  adorn  it  for  the 
feast  of  a  false  god. 

The  nephew  of  CJamaliel,  Eabbi  Ben  Jochai,  enjoyed  a  dis- 
tinction little  below  that  of  his  father  Ben  Akiba.  As  he  was 
considered  the  wisest  sage  and  cxjjounder  of  the  law,  so  was 
his  first-born  son  the  first  astrologer  and  most  skillful  inter- 
preter of  the  mystical  significance  of  the  jiosition  of  the 
heavenly  bodies  among  the  people  of  his  faith.  Apollodorus 
considered  it  a  great  honor  to  cjitertain  under  his  own  roof  the 
wise  (Jamaliel  and  the  distinguished  son  of  ]?en  Akiba,  and  he 
had  done  all  he  could  to  nuikc  their  sojourn  in  his  house 
agreeable.  A  strictly  Jewish  cook  had  been  bought  and  in- 
stalled in  the  place  of  the  Greek  who  usually  served — wlio  was 
familiar  with  all  the  demands  of  the  Jewish  law — and  in- 
structed to  prepare  food  oidy  according  to  Levitioal  rites. 

'I'he  children  of  A])ollodorus  were  forbidden  to  bring  their 
Greek  friends  into  the  house  during  the  visit  of  these  guests 


THE  EMPEROR.  227 

or  to  use  the  name  of  any  heathen  god  in  their  conversation. 
Apollodorus  himself  was  the  first  to  break  this  rule. 

He,  with  all  Alexandrian  Jews,  had  received  a  Greek  edu- 
cation. They  thought  and  felt  as  Greeks;  indeed,  they  were 
Jews  but  in  name — for  though  they  prayed  to  the  one  God  of 
their  fathers,  instead  of  the  many  Olympian  divinities,  it  was 
jio  more  the  mighty  and  Avrathful  Jehovah,  ]jut  the  world- 
animating  spirit  made  known  through  Plato. 

With  each  succeeding  hour  of  this  intercourse  the  chasm 
separating  host  and  guests  yawned  more  widely,  and  the  rela- 
tions of  the  Alexandrian  to  the  wise  men  from  Palestine  be- 
came still  more  iincomfortable,  after  it  became  apparent  that 
the  object  of  their  visit  to  Egypt  was  to  win  the  daughter  of 
Aijollodorus  as  a  wife  to  Ben  Jochai.  But  the  fair  Ismene  was 
not  inclined  to  listen  to  the  suit  of  the  strict  young  rabbi. 
The  home  of  their  race  seemed  to  her  a  barbarous  land,  the 
earnest  young  man  excited  her  fear,  and  besides  all  else,  her 
heart  was  not  free.  It  belonged  to  the  son  of  Alabarchos,  the 
head  of  the  .Tews  in  Egypt,  and  this  youth  owned  the  hand- 
somest horses  in  the  city,  and  had  won  with  them  many  vic- 
tories in  the  liippodrome,  and  he  had  chosen  her  out  of  all  the 
young  women  in  the  city.  K  to  any  one,  she  should  give  her 
hand  to  him. 

This  she  confided  to  her  father  wlien  he  told  her  of  the  woo- 
ing of  Ivabbi  Ben  Jochai;  and  Aijollodorus,  who  had  many 
years  before  lost  his  wife,  had  neither  the  skill  nor  the  wish  to 
constrain  his  jjretty  darling. 

It  would  indeed  be  hard  for  the  accommodating  nature  of 
this  man  to  return  a  decided  negative  to  the  proposition  of  his 
worthy  guest;  but  it  must  be  done  some  time,  and  this  even- 
ing seemed  a  fitting  time  for  the  uni^leasant  task. 

He  was  entirely  alone  with  his  guests.  Ismene  had  gone  to 
the  house  of  a  friend,  where  she  could  enjoy  the  display  upon 
the  street;  his  three  sons  had  gone  out  also;  even  the  slaves 
had  permission  to  enjoy  their  liberty  until  midnight,  and  no 
disturbance  was  exi^ected.  So  he  found  courage  to  decline  the 
suit  of  Ben  Jochai  with  many  warm  expressions  of  regard  and 
deep  appreciation  of  the  honor  proffered.  His  child,  he  said, 
was  too  fond  of  Alexandria  to  leave  it  wiUingly,  and  his  dis- 
tinguished young  friend  could  hardly  be  satisfied  with  a  wife 
who,  accustomed  to  this  freer  mode  of  life,  would  be  unhap2)y 
ill  a  house  where  the  stricter  laws  of  the  fathers  were  practiced. 

Gamaliel  allowed  the  Alexandrian  to  say  all  he  wished;  but 
as  his  nephew  was  preparing  to  answer  he  cut  him  off,  saying, 
while  his  slightly  bowed  figure  erected  itself,  and  passing  a 


228  THE   EMPEROR. 

hand  over  the  bhie  veins  and  fine  wrinkles  of  his  liigh  fore- 
head: 

"  Through  war  with  the  Romans  our  tribe  has  been  much 
depleted;  and  among  those  of  the  same  blood  lien  Akiba 
found  no  maiden  who  appeared  to  him  worthy  of  a  union  with 
his  family.  But  titlings  of  the  Alexandrian  branch  of  our 
liouse  and  of  his  prosjDcrity  reached  us  in  Judea;  then  Ben 
Akiba  thought  to  follow  the  example  of  Abraham,  and  send 
me  as  an  Eliezer  into  a  strange  land,  to  take  a  wife  for  his 
Isaac.     Who  he  is  and  what  rank  he  holds  among  men — " 

'' 1  know  well,"  broke  in  Apollodorus;  "and  nothing  has 
brought  greater  honor  to  my  house  than  your  visit." 

"  Nevertheless,"  continued  the  rabbi,  "  we  shall  return  as 
we  came,  without  carrying  out  the  wish  of  him  who  sent  me, 
for  after  what  I  have  heard  from  you  within  the  last  hour,  we 
shall  be  compelled  to  withdraw  our  suit.  Do  not  interrupt 
me.  Your  Ismene  refuses  to  veil  her  face,  and  it  is  certainly 
fair  to  look  upon.  You  have  trained  her  spirit  as  that  of  a 
man,  and  she  chooses  her  own  path.  This  ma}''  be  fitting  for 
a  Greek,  but  in  the  house  of  J3en  Akiba  the  wife  must  have  no 
will  of  her  own,  but  be  content  to  follow  that  of  her  husband, 
as  the  ship  obeys  its  rudder;  and  this  is  in  strict  accordance 
with  what  the  law  commands,  and  you  have  allowed  her  to 
despise. " 

"  We  acknowledge  its  excellence,''  answered  Apollodorus, 
"  but  if  the  laws  Moses  received  on  Sinai  are  binding  on  all 
mortals,  those  precejits  so  wisely  given  to  regulate  the  outward 
lives  of  our  ancestors  are  not  meant  for  the  children  of  the 
present  day.  At  any  rate,  we  can  not  follow  them  here, 
where — though  true  to  our  ancient  faith — we  are  Greeks 
among  the  Greeks,  with  whom  we  live," 

"  That  I  perceive,"  returned  Gamaliel.  "  You  have  ex- 
changed the  language  itself — that  garment  of  thought — the 
words  of  our  fathers,  the  writings,  the  law — all  these  you  have 
parted  with." 

"  You  and  your  nephew  also  speak  Greek.'* 

"  We  do  that  here,  because  you  and  yours  no  more  under- 
stand the  language  of  Moses  and  the  prophets." 

"  Wherever  Alexander  the  Great  carried  his  arms  Greek  is 
spoken;  therefore,  that  (J reek  version  of  the  Scriptures  written 
by  seventy  interisreters — the  Septuagint — is  not  identical  with 
the  orginal  Hebrew  text." 

"  Would  you  exchange  the  stone  in  your  ring  cut  by  Bryaxis, 
which  you  showed  me  yesterday  with  so  much  pride,  for  a  wax 
impression  of  the  same?" 


THE   ETVfp-RROR.  229 

"  The  language  of  Plato  is  no  common  stuff;  but  noble  as 
the  costliest  sapi^hire/' 

"But  ours  came  from  the  mouth  of  the  Highest.  What 
would  you  think  of  the  child,  who,  des2)isinng  the  siieech  of 
his  father,  listened  only  to  his  neighbor,  and  used  an  inter- 
preter to  understand  the  commands  of  his  parents?" 

"  You  speak  of  parents  who  have  long  ago  left  their  native 
land.  The  ancestor  can  not  com^Dlain  oi'  his  descendant,  who 
uses  the  language  of  liis  adopted  country,  if  he  continue  to  act 
according  to  its  sense." 

"  We  must  live  not  alone  by  the  meaning,  but  after  the 
words  of  the  Most  High,  for  no  word  has  gone  in  vain  out  of 
His  mouth.  The  more  elevated  the  thought  of  a  sentence,  so 
much  the  more  do  we  need  accuracy  in  the  words  and  sylla- 
bles. A  single  letter  often  changes  the  meaning  of  the  whole 
sentence.  But  what  a  noise  there  is  in  the  street!  The  tumult 
presses  even  into  this  distant  apartment;  and  your  son  finds 
delight  in  this  heathenish  disorder.  You  do  not  restrain  him 
with  authority  from  increasing  the  ranks  of  the  frenzied  serv- 
ants of  pleasure!" 

"  I  was  once  young  myself,  and  think  it  no  sin  to  join  the 
universal  gayety. " 

"  Say  rather  the  shameful  idolatry  of  the  worshipers  of 
Dionysius.  Only  in  name  do  you  and  yours  belong  to  tbe 
chosen  people  of  the  Lord;  in  reality  you  are  heathens.^ 

"  No,  father!"  cried  Apollodorus,  with  animation.  "  You 
have  transposed  the  relation.  In  heart  we  are  Jews,  though 
we  wear  Grecian  garments. " 

"  You  are  called  Apollodorus;  that  means  a  gift  from 
Apollo." 

"  A  name  chosen  simply  to  discriminate  one  person  from 
another.  Whoever  asks  about  a  word  that  sounds  pleasantly, 
what  it  signifies?" 

"  You,  he;  every  man  who  has  not  a  dull  mind!"  cried  the 
rabbi.  ''Is  it  necessary,  you  ask,  that  Zenodotos,  or  Iler- 
mogenes,  the  Greek  we  meet  at  the  bath,  should  know  at  once 
that  he  with  whom  he  is  talking  over  the  latest  explana- 
tion of  some  Hellenic  mytli,  is  a  Jew?  And  how  agreeable 
you  consider  the  man  wlio  asks  whether  you  are  not  a  native 
of  Athens,  because  you  use  the  language  with  such  a  purely 
Attic  enunciation.  As  we  naturally  pass  over  to  our  children 
what  we  most  value,  so  do  we  choose  for  them  Jiames  which 
llatLcr  our  own  vanity." 

"  By  Hercules,  father!" 


230  THE  EMPEROK. 

A  supercilious  and  sarcastic  smilo  played  over  the  lips  of  the 
shrewd  (Gamaliel,  as  iiiterrii])ting  Aijollodorus,  he  asked: 

"  Is  tliere  any  specially  worthy  man  of  our  faith  in  Alexan- 
dria l»y  the  name  of  Hercules?  No  one  associates  that  oath 
with  the  son  of  Alcmene;  it  has  the  sense  of  '  truly/  " 

"'  Indeed,  you  are  not  quite  exact  hi  the  use  of  words  and 
names;  but  where  there  is  so  much  to  see  and  to  enjoy  as  ia 
this  city,  one's  thoughts  can  not  always  become  connected. 
That  is  easily  comiirehended.  They  are  so  polite  here,  also, 
that  truth  is  easily  glossed  over.  Will  you  allow  me,  the  bar- 
bai-ian  from  Judea,  to  speak  very  plamly  with  you?" 

"  Speak,  I  beg  you." 

"  You  are  .Jews,  though  you  would  not  be  such,  and  look 
upon  your  origin  as  upon  an  evil  that  can  not  be  avoided.  It 
is  only  wliere  you  feel  the  mighty  hand  of  the  Most  High  that 
you  recognize  Him,  and  claim  your  right  to  be  numbered  with 
His  chosen  jjcojile.  In  the  ordinary  course  of  life  you  are 
proud  to  be  among  His  foes.  Do  not  interrupt  me,  and  an- 
swer frankly  what  I  ask.  At  w^hat  moment  of  your  life  have 
you  felt  the  warmest  gratitude  toward  the  (Jod  of  your 
fathers?'^ 

"  "Why  should  I  conceal  it?  It  was  at  the  time  when  my 
deceased  wife  presented  me  with  our  first-born  son." 

"  And  3^ou  named  him?" 

"  Certainly,  you  are  aware  that  his  name  is  Benjamin.'^ 

"  After  the  favorite  son  of  the  patriarch  Jacob,  and  in  that 
hour  you  were  grateful  to  be  j^ermitted  to  add  another  Jink  to 
the  chain  of  your  race.  You  were  then  a  Jew,  and  our  God 
was  your  God.  The  birth  of  a  second  son  did  not  move  you 
so  deeply,  and  you  called  him  Theophilus,  But  at  the  birth 
of  your  youngest  you  thought  no  more  on  the  God  of  your 
fathers,  for  you  gave  him  the  name  of  the  heathen  idol, 
He2)hastion.  To  sum  u]) — you  are  a  Jew  when  the  Lord  is 
specially  gracious,  or  when  He  threatens  trial;  but  heathen  at 
every  point  where  your  path  leads  over  other  than  the  loftiest 
heights,  or  through  the  deepest  abysses.  I  can  not  change 
you;  but  the  wife  of  my  brother's  son,  the  daughter  of  Ben 
Akiba,  must  feel  herself  the  child  of  her  race,  at  morning, 
noon,  and  night.  I  seek  for  my  Isaac  a  Rebecca,  and  not  an 
Isniene, " 

"  I  did  not  invite  you,"  returned  Apollodorus.  "  and  if  you 
leave  us  to-morrow  our  reverence  will  follow  you.  Do  not 
think  worse  of  us  because  we  do  more,  i)erliaps,  than  simply 
(M)nsent  to  the  thoughts  and  actions  of  the  people  among 
wliom  we  have  grown  up  and  ]u-osi)ered.     We  know  how  high 


THK    EMPEROR.  231 

our  faith  towers  above  theirs.  In  lieart,  we  remain  Jews.  But 
should  we  not  seek  to  educate  and  stimulate  our  spirits  wher- 
ever we  are  jilaced?  for  the  Lord  has  certainly  made  them  of 
not  less  finer  stuff  than  the  others.  And  in  what  school  could 
they  be  better  trained  than  in  our — T  mean  than  in  the  Gre- 
cian?    The  knowledge  of  the  Most  High — " 

"  That  knowledge  of  the  Most  High,"  cried  the  old  man, 
gesturing  vehemently,  "  and  all  which  mere  philosophy  seeks 
to  fathom,  which  the  mightiest  and  the  purest  of  the  thinkers 
to  whom  you  refer  always  expect  to  grasp  by  study  and  re- 
search, has  been  made  a  gift  to  every  child  of  our  people.  The 
treasure  your  wise  men  are  seeking  so  laboriously  we  possess  in 
our  Scriptures,  our  commandments,  our  rules  of  hfe.  AVe  are 
the  people  of  jieoples,  the  first-born  of  the  Lord,  and  when  the 
Messiah  shall  arise  from  among  us — " 

"  Then,"  broke  in  Ajwllodorus,  "will  be  fulfilled  what. I 
agree  witla  Philo  in  hoping;  we  shall  become  priests  and 
prophets,  to  call  down  the  blessing  of  the  Most  High  upon  all 
the  nations." 

"  For  us,  for  us  alone,  shall  ajopear  that  messenger  of  G'od 
to  raise  our  people  from  the  rank  of  servants^,  to  be  a  queen  of 
all  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth. " 

Apollodorus  looked  at  the  excited  old  man  with  surprise  and 
a  smile  of  incredulity,  saying:  "  The  crucified  Nazarene  was  a 
false  Messiah;  but  when  will  the  true  one  appear?" 

"  When  will  He  appear?''  cried  the  rabbi.  "  When?  Am 
I  able  to  tell  you?  I  know  only  one  thing.  The  worm  has 
already  turned  to  sting  the  heel  of  him  who  has  trodden  upon 
it.     Have  you  heard  the  name  of  Bar  Cochba?" 

"  Uncle,''  cried  Ben  Jochai,  interrupting  the  speech  of  the 
old  ra])bi,  and  rising  from  his  pVdoe,  "  do  not  say  what  you 
might  rejient." 

"  Certainly  not,"  answered  Gamaliel,  earnestly. 

"  These  people  draw  that  which  is  divine  down  to  the  human 
level,  but  they  are  not  traitors." 

Then  turning  again  to  Apollodorus,  he  said: 

"  Those  who  have  gained  power  over  Israel  have  setup  idols 
in  our  holiest  i)laces,  and  constrain  the  people  to  worship 
them,  but  sooner  shall  we  let  them  break  our  backs  than  bow 
before  such," 

"Are  you  thinking  of  another  mighty  revolt?"  asked  the 
Alexandrian,  anxiously. 

"  Answer  me;  have  you  heard  the  name  of  Bar  Cochba?" 

"  Yes,  as  the  daring  leader  of  an  armed  host. " 

"  He  is  a  hero,  and  perhaps  the  Eedeemer." 


533  THE    EMPKKOi;. 

"  And  is  it  for  iiim  tliat  yon  liuvc  commissioned  me  t)0  send, 
in  my  next  grtiin-sbi])  to  Joj)pa,  swords  iind  sliields  and  lance- 
tips?'' 

"  Shall  the  Eoman  alone  be  allowed  to  use  iron?" 

*'  No;  but  it  would  ill  become  me  to  equi])  a  friend  with 
weapons  against  an  adversary  whom  I  know  would  surely  an- 
nihilate him?" 

"  The  Lord  of  Hosts  is  stronger  than  thousands  of  legions." 

"  Guard  yourself,  uncle!"  again  cried  Ben  Jochai;,  in  warn- 
ing tones. 

Gamaliel  turned  angrily  toward  his  nejjhew,  but  before  he 
could  reply  he  shrunk  within  himself,  for  a  wild  tumult  and  the 
noise  of  violent  blows  against  the  brazen  door  of  the  house 
penetrated  to  this  apartment,  shaking  the  marble  w^alls. 

"  They  are  attacking  my  house,''  cried  Ajwllodorus. 

"  The  gratitude  of  those  for  whom  you  have  broken  faith 
■with  the  (iod  of  your  fathers,"  said  the  old  man,  gloomily. 
Then  he  raised  his  arms  and  cried:  "  Hear  me,  Adonai!  My 
years  have  been  many,  and  J  am  ripe  icTv  the  grave,  but  spare 
this  one,  have  mercy  on  him!" 

Ben  Jochai  also  lifted  his  arms  upward  imploringly,  and  his 
black  eyes  glowed.  The  prayers  of  both  were  short,  for  the 
danger  pressed  nearer  and  nearer. 

A2)ollodorus  wrung  his  hands  and  beat  his  forehead.  His 
motions  were  convulsive.  Anxiety  destroyed  the  fine  bearing 
and  measured  demeanor  he  was  wont  to  maintain  among  his 
fellow-citizens.  He  plunged  hither  and  yon,  mixing  Greek 
curses  and  oaths  with  cries  ujDon  the  God  of  his  fathers.  He 
sought  in  vain  for  the  key  to  his  subterranean  ajjartments,  but 
it  was  in  the  keeping  of  his  steward,  who,  with  the  other  serv- 
ants, were  enjoying  the  evening  on  the  streets  or  in  the  drink- 
ing-shops.  The  Jewish  cook,  to  whom  the  celebration  of  the 
Dionysian  feast  was  a  sacrilege,  plunged  into  the  room  screech- 
ing, while  he  tore  his  hair  and  beard:  "  The  Philisthies  are 
upon  us!  Deliver  lis,  rabbi,  great  rabbi!  Entreat  the  Lord  of 
Hosts  for  us,  oh  man  of  God!  They  come  with  clubs  and 
spears,  and  will  trample  us  down  as  the  grass,  and  consume  us 
in  this  house,  as  locusts  that  are  cast  into  the  oven. ' ' 

In  agony  the  slave  threw  himself  at  the  feet  of  Gamaliel, 
seizing  them  with  his  hands;  but  Apollodorus  cried:  "  Follow 
me  to  the  roof." 

"  Ko,  no!"  howled  the  slave,  "  Amalek  has  prepared  fire- 
brands to  cast  into  our  tent.  The  heathen  Icaj)  and  rage,  and 
the  flames  which  they  cast  will  devoiu'  us.     Kabbi,  rabbi,  cry 


THE    EMPEROR.  233 

unto  the  Lord  of  Hosts!  Righteous  God,  they  are  bursting 
the  gates.     Lord!  Lord!  LordP' 

The  teeth  of  the  agonized  creature  chattered,  and  Avith 
groans  and  howls  he  covered  his  face  with  both  hands.  Ben 
Jochai  was  perfectly  collected  though  trembling  with  indigna- 
tion.    After  his  i)rayer  he  turned  to  Gamaliel,  saying: 

"  I  knew  this  would  come,  and  did  not  withhold  it  from 
you.  We  began  our  journey  under  evil  stars,  and  must  now 
endure  Avhat  He  has  ordained  for  us.     He  will  avenge  us!" 

"  Vengeance  is  His,'"  returned  the  old  man,  and  veiled  his 
face  with  the  white  folds  of  his  robe. 

"  Into  the  sleeping-room!  Follow  me!  We  will  hide  under 
the  beds!''  cried  Apollodorus,  pushing  back  the  cook  with  his 
foot,  and  seizing  the  shoulder  of  the  rabbi  to  draw  liim  on- 
ward. 

But  it  was  too  late,  for  the  doors  of  the  adjoining  apai'tment 
were  already  open,  and  they  heard  the  rattle  of  weapons. 

"  Lost!  all  is  lost!"  cried  Apollodorus.  "  Adonai,  help  us, 
Adonai!"  murmured  the  old  man,  clinging  to  his  nephew, 
who  was  a  head  taller  than  himself,  and  protected  him  with 
his  right  arm.  The  danger  threatening  the  lives  of  Apollo- 
dorus and  his  guests  was  imminent,  and  had  arisen  from  the 
indignation  of  the  excited  crowd  when  attention  was  called  to 
the  fact  that  the  house  was  without  festal  adornment. 

One  word  was  enough  to  inflame  the  hot  blood  of  the  Alex- 
andrians, and  lead  them  to  break  through  the  restraints  of  law 
into  acts  of  violence.  Bloody  dealing  between  the  heathen  and 
the  nearly  equal  jaojoulation  of  Jews  was  an  every-day  affair, 
and  they  were  equally  at  fault.  Since  the  Israelites  had  fallen 
upon  their  fellow-citizens  with  cruel  rage  in  Cyrenaica  and 
Cyprus,  the  distrust  and  the  animosity  of  those  holding  another 
faith  in  Alexandria  had  beeii  rekindled. 

Besides  this,  the  jsrosperity  of  many,  and  the  great  wealth 
of  a  few  individuals,  filled  the  hearts  of  the  poorer  heathen 
with  envy,  and  the  wish  to  strip  the  possessors,  who,  it  can 
not  be  denied,  had  many  times  treated  their  gods  with  a  show 
of  contempt.  Witliin  the  last  few  days  especially,  the  dissen- 
sions respecting  the  festival  in  honor  of  the  emperor  had  re- 
vived the  old  grudge;  and  so  a  sight  of  the  closed  and  silent 
house  on  the  Oano2^ic  way  had  excited  the  populace  and  sug- 
gested the  thought  of  an  attack  on  the  palatial  residence  of 
Apollodorus. 

It  was  but  a  single  word  that  excited  the  frenzy.  A  tanner 
named  Melampus,  an  old  tippler,  passing  through  the  street  at 


234  THE    EMPEROR. 

the  head  of  a  drunken  comjmny,  cried  out,  pointing  at  the 
silent  house  with  his  Thyrsus  staiJ: 

''  See  tlie  naked  barrack!  What  the  Jew  used  to  spend  in 
ornamenting  is  now  hoarded  in  his  chest."  These  words  kin- 
dled a  ilanie  that  hghted  others. 

''The  rascal  is  defrauding  our  fatlier  Dionysius!"  cried  a 
second  citizen.     And  still  another  screeched,  raising  a  torch: 

"  Let  us  take  the  drachmas  he  is  holding  ba('k  from  tlie 
god:  we  can  use  them!" 

The  sausage-maker,  Glaucus,  snatched  the  torch  out  of  his 
hand,  aiid  roared: 

"  Follow  me;  we  will  burn  the  house  over  his  head." 

'*  Hold,  hold!'^  cried  a  cobbler,  who  worked  for  the  slaves 
of  Apollodorus,  planting  himself  in  the  way  of  the  nuid 
butcher.  "  Perhaps  they  are  mourning  for  the  dead.  The 
Jew  always  illuminates  his  house." 

"  Not  that,"  answered  him  a  flute-jilayer,  in  a  loud,  irritat- 
ed tone.  "  The  son  of  the  old  miser  just  i-)assed  through  the 
Bruchiom  in  a  merry  company,  with  a  long  i:)urple  mantle 
fluttering  behind." 

"  We  will  see  which  is  the  redder,  the  Phoenician  stuif  ho 
wears,  or  the  glow  of  a  house  on  fire. " 

"  Let  us  try  it!"  sounded  first  from  one,  and  then  from 
many  voices. 

"  Into  the  house!" 

''  The  beggarly  extortioner  shall  remember  this  day!" 

"  Fetch  him  out!" 

"  Drag  him  into  the  street!" 

Such  were  the  cries  among  the  crowd. 

"  Drag  him  out!"  echoed  an  Egyptian  slave  bailiff;  and  a 
woman  screeched  the  same  words  after  him.  She  pulled  the 
deer-skin  from  her  shoulders,  and  swung  it  above  her  dis- 
heveled black  hair  in  a  dizzying  whirl,  yelling: 

"  Tear  him  to  pieces!" 

'*  Tear  him  with  your  teeth!"  shrieked  a  Moonad,  who,  like 
the  most  of  the  crowd,  knew  no  reason  whatever  for  the  rage 
against  Ajiollodorus  and  his  house. 

They  easily  passed  from  words  to  deeds;  with  feet,  fists,  and 
sticks,  they  beat  upon  the  brazen  portal;  and  a  sailor-boy  of 
fourteen  years  old  sprung  ui^on  the  shoulders  of  a  gigantic 
negro  slave  trying  to  mount  the  roof  of  the  coloimade  and  fling 
the  lighted  torch  the  sausage-maker  had  passed  to  him  into  the 
uncovered  part  of  the  threatened  house. 


THE  EMPEKOR.  235 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  clashing  of  arms  heard  by  AiDollodorus  and  his  guests 
came  not  from  the  enemies  of  the  Israehtes,  but  from  Roman 
soldiers  bringing  help  to  the  threatened  house. 

As  Verus  passed  along  the  Canopic  way,  aecom2:)anied  by  a 
tribune  of  the  Twelfth  Legion  and  his  British  slaves,  they  were 
stopped  by  the  dense  crowd  before  the  house  of  Ajjolloclorus. 
The  prefecti  whom  ho  met  here,  informed  the  pretor  that 
Apollodorus  was  one  of  the  richest  and  most  resiaected  Alexan- 
drian citizens.  But  Verus  would  not  have  looked  on  quietly 
had  the  atack  been  made  upon  the  house  of  one  of  the  jaoorest 
and  most  despised  among  the  Christians — for  every  act  of  law- 
lessness and  trespass  upon  established  order  was  intolerable  to 
him.  And  though  apj^arently  reckless,  and  devoted  to  pleas- 
ure, he  was  both  in  war  or  in  (iommon  life  courageous  and 
reliable. 

As  soon  as  he  perceived  the  design  of  the  crowd,  his  fertile 
brain  devised  means  to  iipset  their  i^lans.  Already  they  had 
beat  upon  the  door  of  the  Jew's  house;  already  some  had 
mounted  the  roof  of  the  colonnade  with  lighted  torches. 
Whatever  was  done  must  be  done  instantly,  and  fortunately 
Verus  had  the  power  of  thinking  and  acting  quickly  and  effi- 
ciently. He  sent  the  military  tribune,  Lucius  Albinus,  to 
sumTmon  the  veterans,  and  commanded  his  slaves,  with  their 
vigorous  muscles,  to  force  a  way  for  him  to  the  door. 

This  was  quickly  done,  and  what  was  his  astonishment  to 
meet  here  the  emj^eror,  in  the  very  act  of  snatching  the  torch 
out  of  the  hand  of  the  tailor,  and  ordering  them  in  authori- 
tative tones  to  leave  off  their  mad  pursuit.  Unaccustomed  to 
imjjerial  mandate,  the  Alexandrians  only  replied  by  sneering, 
whistling,  grunting.  A  few  drunken  Egyptians  had  already- 
drawn  near  to  lay  their  hands  on  this  unwelcome  guest,  when 
the  pretor  crossed  their  path. 

Whispering  to  Hadrian  that  it  was  the  place  of  Jupiter  to 
govern  tlie  world,  and  he  miglit  leave  to  inferior  beings  the  de- 
fense of  the  house  of  a  single  Jew,  and  that  in  a  few  moments 
soldiers  would  arrive,  he  cried  aloud: 

"  Av/ay  with  you,  sopliist!  You  belong  in  the  museum,  or 
Avith  your  books  in  the  Temple  of  Si-rapis,  l)at  not  among 
sensible  people.  Am  J  riglit  or  am  I  wrong,  Macedonian  citi- 
zens?" 


5>3n  THE  EM  PEE  OR. 

A  inunnur  of  assent  rose  among  tlie  orowd,  changing  into 
lauglitcr,  ami  Vcrus  went  on  as  Hadrian  left  the  place: 

'*  He  lias  a  beard  like  the  emperor,  and  carries  himself  as  if 
he  really  woi-e  the  purple.  You  did  i-iglit  to  let  him  run 
away,  for  no  doubt  his  wife  and  children  are  waiting  for  him 
with  the  soup.^' 

Verus  had  mingled  with  the  people  in  many  mirthful  ad- 
ventures, and  understood  dealing  with  them.  If  he  could  OTily 
succeed  in  diverting  them  until  the  arrival  of  the  soldiers,  his 
end  would  be  gained.  Hadrian  could  be  a  hero,  where  it  was 
worth  his  wlnle,  but  in  this  case  he  gladly  yielded  to  Verus 
the  task  of  quieting  the  people. 

'^rhe  pretor  commanded  lis  slaves  to  lift  him  upon  their 
shoulders,  and  as  his  handsome,  kindly  face  ajipeared,  the 
crowd  recognized  him,  and  cried  out: 

"  The  wild  I?oman!    The  pretor!    The  false  Eros!'* 

"It  is  I,  Macedonian  citizens,"  answered  Verus,  "  and  I 
will  tell  you  a  story." 

"  Hear,  hear!"  "  Forward  into  the  Jew's  house!"  "  Wait 
a  little;  give  Verus  the  word!"  "  I'll  break  your  teeth, 
youngster,  if  you  are  not  quiet!"  were  among  the  cries  heard 
in  the  crowd. 

Curiosity  to  hear  the  speech  of  Verus  and  the  really  un- 
founded rage  of  the  people  competed  for  the  mastery,  but  as, 
at  last,  the'former  seemed  to  be  victorious,  the  noise  subsided, 
and  the  pretor  began: 

"  There  was  once  a  child  who  received  the  gift  of  ten  little 
cotton  sheej),  cheap  articles,  such  as  one  can  buy  of  the  old 
Avoman  on  the  Emporeum — " 

"Go  071  to  the  Jew — we  don't  want  any  baby  stories." 
"  Hush,  there!"  "  ]3etter  look  out,  for  the  Komans  change 
suddenly  from  sheep  to  wolves."  "It  will  be  a  she-wolf!" 
(Such  were  the  cries  from  the  crowd. 

"  Don't  call  those  shaggy  fellows,"  said  Verus,  laugliing, 
"  and  hear  me  further.  This  boy  jalaced  his  pretty  sheej?  in  a 
row.  He  was  the  son  of  a  weaver.  Is  there  any  weaver 
among  you  here?  You?  And  you?  And  you,  too,  in  the 
rear?  Were  I  not  the  son  of  my  father,  I  should  like  to  have 
been  an  Alexandrian  weaver.  You  need  not  laugh.  But  to 
go  back  to  our  sheep.  These  pretty  little  things  were  all 
pure  white,  with  one  exception,  and  that  had  an  ugly  black 
spot,  which  displeased  the  boy.  So  he  went  to  the  hearth  and 
pulled  out  a  glowing  coal,  lie  thought  he  Avould  burn  up  the 
bla('k  shee])  and  kee])  only  the  i)ure  white  ones.  But  as  the 
flame  seized  the  wooden  skeleton  of  his  lamb  there  came  a 


THE   EMPEKOR.  237 

strong  draught  of  wind  through  the  window,  and  drove  it 
along  to  the  next,  so  that  in  one  moment  every  one  of  them  was 
burned  up.  Then  thought  the  youngster,  '  Oh,  had  I  only 
left  the  ugly  lamb  alone!  What  can  I  now  have  to  play  with!' 
And  he  began  to  weep.  But  that  was  not  all,  for  while  the 
little  fellow  was  rubbing  his  eyes,  the  flames  had  spread — they 
caught  the  loom,  the  wool,  the  flax,  the  linen,  the  whole  house 
of  liis  father,  the  city  in  which  he  was  born,  and  I  think  the 
boy  himself.  Now,  dear  friends  and  Macedonian  citizens,  re- 
flect a  little.  Those  of  you  Avho  own  anything  will  understand 
the  meaning  of  my  story.-" 

"  Away  with  the  torch!''  screeched  the  wife  of  a  coal  dealer. 

"  He  is  right;  for  the  sake  of  the  Jew  the  whole  city  would 
be  in  danger,"  cried  the  cobbler.  "  The  madmen  have 
already  flung  their  fire-brands. " 

"  If  you  throw  any  more  I'll  break  your  bones,"  was  the 
threat  of  the  flax  dealer, 

"  Give  up  the  burning,  then,"  commanded  the  tailor,  "  but 
burst  the  door  and  drag  out  the  Jew." 

These  words  roused  a  fresh  storm  of  applause,  and  the 
crowd  pressed  closer  toward  the  house  of  the  Jew.  No  one 
listened  longer  to  Verus.  He  slij)]ied  down  from  the  shoulder 
of  his  slave,  placed  himself  directly  before  the  door,  and  cried: 

"■'  In  the  name  of  the  emperor,  in  the  name  of  the  law,  let 
this  house  alone!" 

The  words  were  very  earnest,  and  the  false  Eros  looked  as  if 
it  might  be  quite  unsafe  to  jest  with  him.  Still,  only  a  few 
of  the  crowd  had  heard  him,  and  the  hot-blooded  tailor  vent- 
ured to  lay  a  hand  on  his  girdle  to  drag  him  away  from  the 
door.  But  he  was  quickly  j^aid  for  his  audacity,  when  the  fist 
of  the  pretor  smote  his  forehead,  and  he  fell  to  the  earth  as  by 
a  stroke  of  lightning.  One  of  the  British  slaves  struck  down 
the  sausage-maker,  and  matters  would  soon  have  ripened  into 
a  horrible  hand-to-hand  combat  had  not  help  come  to  the 
lioman  from  two  sides.  The  veterans,  supported  by  many 
lictors,  appeared  first,  and  soon  afterward  Benjamin,  the  son 
of  Apollodorus,  with  his  merry  comimnions,  who,  joassing 
along  thci.  Cauoi^ic  way,  had  seen  the  danger  that  threatened 
his  father's  house. 

As  the  wind  scatters  cloud,  so  the  soldiers  drove  away  the 
thronging  poiDulace,  and  the  young  Israelite,  with  his  comjjan- 
ions,  pressed  on  so  vigorously  that  they  su-^-cecded  in  reaching 
the  house  oidy  a  little  later  than  the  veterans. 

The  lictors  knocked  u])on  the  doors,  but  as  no  one  came  to 
open,  they  burst  them,  with  the  help  of  the  soldiers,  that  they 


338  THE  EMTEROR. 

might  i)lant  ;i  guard  inside  against  the  frantic  mob.  The  trib- 
une anil  Venis  entered  with  tlie  soldiers,  and  directly  after, 
]V']ijaniin  and  his  friends,  young  Greeks  with  whom  he  asso- 
(;iated  at  the  baths,  or  in  the  gymnasium. 

Ajjollodorus  and  his  guests  warmly  expressed  their  thanks 
to  Verus;  and  when  the  old  housekeeper,  who,  from  a  hiding- 
place  under  the  roof,  had  seen  all  that  hajjjieaed  outside,  now 
entered  the  apartment  of  her  master,  and  related  all  in  detail, 
the  pretor  was  overwhelmed  with  their  gratitude.  The  old 
woman  painted  her  story  in  glowing  colors.  Meanwhile, 
Ismene  returned,  and  after  she  had  elas^jed  her  father's  neck, 
in  tears  of  excitement  and  joy,  the  housekeejaer,  seizing  her 
hand,  led  her  to  Verus,  with  the  words: 

"■  This  noble  lord — may  the  blessing  of  the  Most  High  be 
upon  him  I — has  risked  his  own  life  to  rescue  us.  This  beauti- 
ful garment  was  rent  for  our  sakes,  and  every  daughter  of 
Israel  should,  as  I  do,  kiss  it  fervently.'' 

So  saying,  she  pressed  it  to  her  lijis,  and  would  have  con- 
strained Ismene  to  follow  her  examjile,  but  Verus  would  not 
permit  it,  and  cried,  laughing: 

"  How  could  I  allow  to  my  garment  what  I  should  scarce 
deem  myself  worthy  to  receive  from  such  lips?" 

"  Kiss  him,  kiss  him,"  cried  the  old  woman,  but  the  jiretor 
took  the  head  of  the  blushing  girl  between  his  hands,  pressed 
a  fatherly  salutation  upon  her  forehead,  and  turning  to  ApoUo- 
dorus  said: 

"  Now  I  am  richly  repaid  for  all  I  was  permitted  to  do." 

"  We,  "cried  Gamaliel — "  I  and  my  brother's  first-born  son, 
must  leave  the  great  God  of  our  fathers  reward  you  for  what 
you  have  done  for  us." 

"  Who  are  5^ou?"  asked  Verus,  whom  the  prophet-like  fig- 
ure of  the  old  man  and  the  pale  spiritual  face  of  his  nephew 
filled  with  admiration. 

Apollodorus  explained  to  him  how  high  the  rabbi  stood 
among  his  people  in  knowledge  of  the  law  and  of  the  Cabala, 
that  tnulitioual  love  of  the  Hebrews,  and  how  far  Simeon  Ben 
Jochai  had  exceeded  his  contemporaries  in  knowledge  of  the 
stars.  He  spoke  of  his  renowned  astrological  work,  "  Sohar," 
and  emphasized  the  mention  of  his  skill  hi  foretelling  the  posi- 
tion of  the  stars. 

Verus  listened  attentively  and  looked  intently  at  the  young 
man,  who  interrupted  the  speech  of  his  host  with  many  modest 
protestations. 

He  was  thinking  of  the  approach  of  his  own  birthday,  and 
knew  ttat  Hadrian  woidd  then  consult  the  position  of  the 


THE   EMPEROR.  239 

planets,  and  that  the  futiire  of  liis  own  life  would  be  decided 
by  what  he  would  read  there.  Would  this  bring  him  to  the 
goal  of  his  own  ambition  or  remove  him  still  further  from  it? 

When  Apollodorus  ceased  speaking,  Verus  extended  his 
hand  to  Ben  Jochai,  saying: 

"  I  rejoice  to  meet  a  man  of  your  distinction  and  your  skill. 
What  would  I  not  give  to  possess  your  knowledge  for  only  a 
few  hours!'' 

"It  is  at  your  service,"  answered  the  astrologer.  "  Make 
use  of  all  I  am,  or  possess.  My  knowledge,  time,  efforts — ask 
every  question  your  wish.    We  stand  so  deeply  in  your  debt — " 

"  You  shall  not  look  upon  me  as  a  creditor,"  broke  in  the 
pretor,  "  and  you  owe  me  no  thanks,  for  I  only  knew  you 
after  the  rescue,  and  did  what  I  cDuld,  not  for  the  sake  of  any 
particular  person,  but  through  love  of  order,  and  to  oppose 
the  outrages  of  a  mob. " 

"  But  you  were  kind  enough  to  deliver  us,"  answered  Ben 
Jochai;  "  do  not  be  so  hard  as  to  refuse  our  gratitude." 

"  It  honors  me,  my  learned  friend;  by  all  the  gods,  it  hon- 
ors me,"  returned  Verus. 

"  And,  indeed,  it  is  quite  possible— it  may — will  be —  Will 
you  have  the  kindness  to  follow  me  toward  the  bust  of  Hip- 
parchus?  By  the  help  of  a  science  which  owes  so  much  to 
him,  you  may  perhaps  render  me  an  imjjortant  service." 

As  the  two  men,  separated  from  the  rest  of  the  party,  stood 
before  the  marble  bust  of  the  great  astronomer,  Verus  asked: 

"  Do  you  know  the  manner  in  which  the  emperor  is  accus- 
tomed to  determine  the  destinies  of  men  from  the  stars?" 

"Exactly." 

"  Through  whom?" 

"  Through  Aquila,  a  pupil  of  my  father." 

"  Can  you  reckon  what  the  stars  will  teach  him  on  the  night 
preceding  the  thirty-first  of  December,  respecting  tlie  destiny 
of  a  man  born  on  that  night,  whose  horoscope  is  in  my  posses- 
sion?" 

"  I  can  only  answer  *  yes  '  to  your  question  under  certain 
conditions." 

"  What  prevents  an  unconditional  ansAver?" 

"  Unexpected  appearances  in  the  heavens." 

"  Are  such  aj)pearances  frequent?" 

"  No,  they  are  quite  unusual." 

"  Perhaps  my  fortune  is  extraordinary,  but  I  beg  you  to  reck- 
on, after  Hadrian's  manner,  what  will  be  made  knowii  on 
the  night  specified,  of  him  Avhose  horoscope  I  will  send  early 
to-morrow  by  my  slave." 


210  TllR   EMPEROK. 

"I  will  do  this  gladly." 

'^  When  can  you  bring  the  work  to  an  end?" 

"  In  four  days  at  the  latest,  ijerhajos  sooner." 

*'  Excellent!  But  one  thing  more.  Do  you  hold  me  to  be 
a  reasonable  man?" 

"  Should  I  have  had  ground  for  gratitude  had  you  been  any 
other?" 

'"  Well,  tlien,  conceal  nothing  from  me,  not  even  the  most 
rrnel  and  horrible  fate,  which  might  poison  the  life  and  destroy 
the  coiu-age  of  others.  AVhatever  you  may  read  in  the  book  of 
the  heavens,  of  small  or  great,  of  good  or  bad,  I  wish  to  hear 
all." 

"  I  will  hide  nothing  from  you." 

The  pretor  offered  his  htind  to  Ben  Jochai,  jiressing  heartily 
the  delicate  and  handsomely  formed  one  of  the  Jew — arrang- 
ing, as  they  left,  the  manner  in  which  he  should  apprise  him 
of  the  finishing  of  his  calculations. 

Apollodorus,  with  his  guests  and  children,  excepting  Benja- 
min, who  was  entertaining  his  Greek  friends  in  the  banqueting- 
hall,  accompanied  the  pretor  to  the  door. 

As  (iamaliel  heard  the  sin;,iing  and  shouting,  he  said  to 
Aj)ollodoru.s,  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders: 

"  They  praise  the  God  of  our  fathers  in  Alexandrian  fash- 
ion. " 

All  was  now  silent  about  the  house,  except  the  steady  tread 
of  the  soldiers  on  guard. 

In  a  neighboring  street  Vorus  met  the  tailor  whom  he  had 
struck  to  the  ground,  the  sausage-maker,  and  other  instigators 
of  the  riot,  on  their  way  to  j^i'ison.  Verus  would  gladly  have 
given  them  their  freedom,  but  he  knew  the  emjieror  Vould 
expect  him  to  report  on  the  next  morning  that  they  had  re- 
ceived justice.  At  another  time  they  would  have  been  sent 
home  unpunished,  but  just  now  he  Avas  mastered  by  a  wish 
stronger  than  liis  kind-heartedness  or  his  frivolity. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

At  the  Oajsareum,  Verus  found  the  chamberlain  waiting  to 
conduct  him  to  the  empress,  who,  in  spite  of  the  late  hour, 
wished  to  see  him.  She  was  in  a  state  of  great  excitemeiit, 
and  not,  as  usual,  lying  upon  her  couch,  but  striding  M-iih  ini- 
Avomaidy  steps  uji  and  down  tlie  apartment. 

"It  is  good  that  you  have  ciome,"  she  said  to  the  ])r('tor. 
"  Lentulus  is  sure  that  he  has  met  Mastor,  and  Balbilla  as- 
serts—    But  it  is  not  really  i)ossible." 


THE   EMPEROK.  241 

"'  Do  they  think  the  emperor  is  here?''  asked  Verus. 

"  Have  they  said  the  same  thing  to  you?" 

"  No.  I  do  not  stoj)  when  you  call,  and  I  have  something 
important  to  relate.  A  Httle  while  ago,  also —  But  you  need 
not  be  frightened. " 

"  Let  there  be  no  useless  words." 

*'  A  little  while  ago  there  met  me,  in  his  o^vn  person — " 

"  Who?" 

"Hadrian." 

"  And  are  you  not  mistaken?    Have  you  seen  him?" 

"  With  these  eyes.  " 

"That  is  incredible,  unworthy,  shameful!"  cried  Sabina, 
so  loud  and  so  passionately  that  she  was  frightened  by  her  own 
voice.  Her  dry,  lank  figure  shook  with  excitement,  and  every- 
thing in  her  appearance  was  without  grace,  without  womanli- 
ness, and  absolutely  repellent;  but  Verus,  accustomed  from 
childhood  to  look  upon  her  with  kindness,  was  only  pained  by 
the  exhibition. 

There  are  women  who,  like  the  drooping  flowers,  or  fading 
lights,  or  vanishing  shadows,  do  not  thereby  lose  their  charms; 
but  the  large-boned,  stiff-necked  Sabina  had  nothing  of  the 
flexible  tenderness  of  those  lovely  beings.  The  decay  of  her 
j)owers  made  her  less  attractive.  Esj)ecially  when  the  dry 
harshness  of  her  imbittered  soul  Avas  thus  exposed.  She  was 
enraged  by  the  disgrace  she  fancied  her  husband  had  brought 
upon  her  in  not  only  having  a  separate  residence  put  in  order 
for  himself,  but  in  coming  to  the  city  without  acquainting  her 
with  the  fact. 

Her  hands  trembled  with  jiassion,  and  it  was  with  a  stammer- 
ing voice  that  she  asked  Verus  toprejoare  her  c]uieting  draught. 
When  ho  brought  it  she  was  lying  on  the  couch,  her  head 
turned  toward  the  wall,  and  she  said,  piteously: 

"  I  am  very  cold.  Sjjread  the  covering  over  me.  I  am  a 
miserable,  abused  bemg." 

"  You  are  sensitive,  and  take  things  too  hard,"  replied  the 
pretor.  But  she  was  irritated,  and  went  on  cutting  off  his 
words  and  in  every  w,ay  treating  liim  as  if  he  were  a  criminal 
and  she  his  judge. 

She  soon  learned  that  Verus  had  met  Mastor  and  ki\ew  from 
him  that  Hadrian  was  on  the  Lochias,  that  he  had  taken  part 
in  the  festival,  under  disguise,  and  been  in  serious  danger  be- 
fore the  house  of  the  Jew.  Also  she  became  acquainted  with 
the  manner  in  which  the  house  of  the  Jew  was  saved,  and 
whom  he  had  met  within  the  dwelling;  and  Sabina  had  serious- 
ly ]-eproved  him  for  the  frivolous  and  irresponsible  manner  in 


242  THE   KMPEKOIl. 

whicli  lie  liacl  riskod  a  life  destined  to  the  liiglicst  position. 
Vorus  liad  not  interrupted  her  ■\vords,  but  here  he  bent  over, 
kissing  lier  liand,  and  said: 

''  \"our  kind  heart  sees  in  my  future  Avliat  you  yourself  de- 
sire. There  is  a  sliimmering  light  upon  my  horizon.  Is  it  an 
after-glow  from  the  past,  or  the  breaking  cUnvn  of  a  coming 
day  of  splendor?  AVho  can  tell?  I  am  waiting  patiently  for 
what  time  must  soon  decide. " 

"  That  is  true;  this  imcertainty  will  soon  end,"  murmured 
Sabina. 

"  Rest  now,  and  try  to  sleep,''  said  Verus,  with  a  hearty 
kindness  in  his  tone.  "  It  is  past  midnight,  and  the  pliysician 
has  often  forbidden  these  long  watches.  Good-bye;  dream 
sweetly,  and  remain  to  the  man  what  you  have  always  been  to 
tlie  child  and  the  youth. " 

Sabina  drew  back  the  hand  he  had  seized,  and  said : 

*'  You  must  not  leave  me;  I  need  you;  I  can  not  spare  your 
presence." 

"  I  will  stay  beside  you  luitil  morning,  and  always,  if  you 
allow  me. '' 

The  pretor  sighed  as  he  again  took  her  hand,  and  held  it 
long  to  his  lips. 

"  You  are  my  friend  Verus,  I  am  sure  of  it,"  she  said,  at 
last  breaking  the  silence. 

"  Oh,  Sabina!  my  mother,"  he  answered,  heartily.  "  As  a 
boy  you  si^oiled"  me  by  your  kijidness.  What  can  I  do  to 
show  my  gratitude  for  it  all?" 

"  liemain  to  me  what  j^ou  are  to-day.  Will  you  do  this, 
whatever  your  destiny?" 

"  In  sorrow  or  in  joy,  always  the  same  friend,  ready  to  give 
up  liis  life  for  you." 

'*  Always  in  si)ite  of  my  husband,  and  even  when  you  think 
yourself  no  njore  in  need  of  my  favor?" 

"  Yes,  always;  for  without  you  I  am  nothing.  T  am 
wretched." 

The  empress  drew  a  long  breath,  and  raised  herself  liiglier 
upon  the  cushions.  At  length,  as  if  taking  a  resolution,  slie 
spoke,  uttering  each  word  slowly  and  im])ressively: 

"  If  nothing  unjirecedented  should  appear  in  the  sky  on 
your  birtli-niglit,  you  will  be  our  son,  and  Hadrian's  licir  ami 
successor.     I  swear  this." 

Her  voice  was  solemn,  and  her  small  eyes  stretched  wide 
open. 

"  Sabina,  mother,  guardian  spirit  of  my  life!"  cried  Verus, 
falling  on  liis  knee  before  lier.    She  looked  with  much  emotion 


THE    EMPEROR.  343 

into  his  handsome  face,  laid  her  hand  upon  his  brow,  and 
touched  his  dark  hair  with  her  hps.  There  was  a  dewy  glim- 
mer in  eyes  unused  to  tears,  and  in  a  soft,  imploring  tone,  such 
as  one  never  heard  before  from  her,  she  said : 

"  In  fortunate  days,  after  the  adoption  and  when  you  wear 
the  purjDle,  will  all  be  the  same  between  us?  Tell  me.  Will 
it  be  so?^' 

''  Ever,  ever,''  cried  Verus,  "  and  if  our  wish  be  fulfilled — " 

"  Then,"  broke  in  Sabuia,  and  a  chill  ran  over  her,  "you 
will  be  to  me  the  same  you  are  to-day — but  truly,  a  temi:)le 
would  be  empty  if  mortals  had  no  more  requests  to  make.'" 

"  Oh,  no,  they  will  then  carry  thank  offerings  to  the  gods*," 
answered  Verus,  looking  into  her  face,  but  Sabina  avoided  his 
smiling  gaze,  and  turning  away,  said,  anxiously: 

"  No  play  with  words — no  more  talking  and  jesting!  Not 
now,  in  the  name  of  the  gods!  For  this  hour  and  this  night 
are  to  other  hours  and  nights  what  a  consecrated  temple  is  to 
ordinary  houses,  what  the  sun  is  to  other  lights.  You  can 
not  know  my  feeliiigs.  I  scarcely  know  them  myself!  No 
empty  words  now!" 

Verus  looked  at  the  empress  with  growing  astonishment. 
She  had  always  shown  herself  more  gracious  toward  him  than 
all  others,  and  he  was  bound  to  her  by  gratitude  and  cliildish 
associations. 

As  a  boy  he  had  been  the  only  one  among  his  playfellows 
who,  instead  of  being  frightened  away,  had  clung  to  Sabina. 
But  who  had  ever  seen  her  as  now?  Could  this  be  the  harsh, 
bitter  woman  whose  heart  seemed  filled  with  gall,  whose 
tongue  was  like  a  dagger  toward  every  one? 

Could  he  be  deceived?  Genuine  tears  filled  her  eyes  as  she 
went  on: 

"  Here  I  lie,  a  j^oor,  sickly  woman,  as  senstive  in  both  soul 
and  body  as  though  covered  with  wounds.  All  contact  with 
most  people,  even  the  sound  of  their  voices,  hurt?5  me.  I  am 
old,  much  older  than  you  think,  and  more  wretched  than  you 
can  understand.  Neither  as  a  child,  nor  in  girlhood,  have  I 
been  happy;  and  as  a  wife — everlasting  gods! — every  gracious 
word  Hadrian  ever  bestowed  upon  me  I  have  paid  for  by  a 
thousand  humiliations.'" 

"  He  treats  you  always  with  high  respect,"  broke  in  Verus. 

"  Yes,  before  you,  before  other  people!  But  what  do  I  care 
for  respect!  A  little  unselfish  love  is  what  I  wa'.nt,  and  were  I 
only  sure— flared  I  hope  you  would  give  me  this,  I  should 
thank  you  with  all  I  have— this  hour  would  be  bles&ed  above 
every  other  of  my  life." 


244  THE   ESirEKOR. 

"  IIow  can  you  doubt  mc,  mother^  my  truly  loved  mother?^' 

**  That  does  nic  good/'  answered  Sabina;  "  your  voice  is 
never  too  loud,  and  I  dare  believe  you.  This  hour  makes  you 
my  son,  and  me  your  mother." 

Deep  emotion  stn-red  the  withered  heart  of  Sabhia  and  light- 
ed her  eyes. 

She  was  like  a  young  mother  whose  heart  sings  as  she  looks 
at  her  th'st-born  child:  "  It  lives — it  is  mine — I  am  a  mother. " 

Blissfidly  she  looked  into  the  face  of  Verus,  and  cried: 

"  Give  me  your  hand,  my  son;  help  me  up,  for  I  can  no 
more  lie  still.  How  happy  I  am !  Yes,  this  is  the  joy  given 
to  other  women,  before  they  are  gray-haired.  But,  child,  my 
dear,  only  one,  you  are  to  love  me  not  alone  as  a  mother.  I 
am  too  old  for  tender  caresses,  but  I  can  not  bear  that  you 
look  ujion  me  only  with  cliildish  reverence.  You  must  be  also 
my  friend — whose  heart  understands  my  need — who  can  laugh 
with  me  to-day,  or  mourn  to-morrow — and  whom  I  can  be 
sure  rejoices  to  meet  my  look.  You  are  now  my  son,  and 
soon  you  will  be  called  such  by  others.  For  one  evening  this 
is  enough  of  good.  Now  not  one  word  more!  This  hour  is 
like  the  perfected  work  of  a  jiainter.  Every  added  stroke 
miglit  detract  from  its  beauty.  Kiss  my  forehead,  I  will  kiss 
thine;  then  I  will  go  to  rest,  and  when  I  wake  in  the  morning 
I  shall  say  to  myself  that  I  i^ossess  something  worth  living  for 
— a  child! — a  son!'' 

When  the  emjDress  was  alone,  she  raised  her  hands  to  pray, 
but  found  no  words  of  gratitude.  She  had  indeed  enjoyed 
one  hour  of  pure  jDleasure,  but  how  many  days,  months,  and 
years  of  joylessness  and  suffering  lay  behind!  So  soon  as 
gratitude  knocked  uj^on  the  door  of  her  heart,  bitter  defiance 
awoke.     AVhat  was  one  good  hour  against  a  ruined  existence? 

Foolish  woman!  She  had  never  sown  love,  but  cried  out 
against  the  gods  as  cruel  and  unjust,  because  they  forbade  her 
to  reap  it.  -And  upon  what  ground  had  the  seeds  of  her 
maternal  love  fallen! 

Certainly  Verus  left  her  joyous  and  rich  in  hope,  and  the 
interview  with  Sabina  had  moved  his  heart.  He  honestly 
meant  to  be  true  to  her  after  the  adoption,  still  the  glance  of 
his  eye  was  not  so  much  that  of  a  happy  son  as  the  sparkle  of 
one  confident  of  victory. 

In  spite  of  the  late  hour,  his  wife  had  not  retired  to  rest. 
She  knew  he  had  been  called  to  the  empress,  and  Avaited  in 
some  anxiety,  not  accustomed  to  exj)eet  anytliing  very  friendly 
from  Sabhia.  His  quick  step  echoing  against  the  slumbering 
walls  announced  his  arrival,  aiul  she  ran  to  meet  him  on  tho 


THE   EMPEROE.  345 

threshold.  She  was  so  beautiful  in  the  flowing  white  robe, 
and  his  heart  was  so  full,  that  he  clas^Dcd  her  in  his  arms,  Avith 
all  the  warmth  and  enthusiasm  of  their  early  married  days. 
She  also  loved  him  not  less  than  in  former  days,  and  rejoiced 
when  he  returned  to  her  imchangeably  true  heart  as  the 
home-coming  mariner  to  his  welcome  haven. 

"  Lucilla,^'  he  cried,  freeing  his  neck  from  her  clasping 
arms,  "  such  a  night  as  this  has  been!  I  have  estimated  Sa- 
bina  differently  from  you,  and  from  boyhood  she  was  good  to 
me.  But  now  all  is  clear  between  us.  She  has  called  me  her 
son,  and  herself  my  mother.  The  purple  is  ours,  and  I  shall 
owe  it  to  her.  You  are  the  wife  of  a  Cfesar,  certainly,  if  no 
strange  tokens  apjoear  to  frighten  the  emperor. "  With  nupid 
words,  out  of  which  not  only  the  joy  of  success,  but  real  emo- 
tion and  gratitude  were  manifest,  he  described  his  interview 
with  Sabina.  His  fresh,  confident  joy  jnit  to  silence  her  hesi- 
tation and  fear  of  such  a  destiny.  She  saw  in  imagination  her 
husband  and  her  son  upon  the  imperial  throne,  and  the  osten- 
tatious diadem  on  her  own  brow  of  the  woman  she  hated  with 
all  the  vigor  of  her  nature.  The  friendly  relations  of  the  em- 
peror toward  Verus  had  never  disturbed  her;  but  a  wife  can 
more  easily  forgive  hatred  and  persecution  than  the  love  of 
another  woman  toward  her  husband.  There  was  another 
thought,  buried  for  years  in  her  heart,  that  now  forced  itself 
into  expression. 

Hadrian  had  been  responsible  for  the  death  of  her  father, 
though  no  one  dared  assert  that  he  had  killed  the  noble  Nig- 
rinus.  Yet  in  this  hour  the  old  susj^icion  awoke  in  her  soul, 
and  raising  her  right  hand  as  if  for  an  oath,  she  cried: 

"  Oh,  destiny!  my  husband  the  heir  of  my  father's  mur- 
derer!" 

"  Lucilla,"  broke  in  Verus,  "it  is  wrong  to  indulge  such  a 
cruel  susjiicion,  and  madness  to  give  it  expression.  Do  not 
express  it  a  second  time,  and  least  of  all  to-day.  Whatever 
may  have  occurred  in  the  past,  do  not  destroy  the  j3resent  and 
the  future  for  ourselves  and  our  children." 

"  Nigrinus  was  the  grandfather  of  these  cliildren,"  cried  the 
lioraan,  with  flashing  eyes. 

That  means  you  wish  to  inspire  the  wish  for  vengeance  in 
their  souls.  •" 

"  I  am  the  daughter  of  the  strangled  man.'" 

"  But  you  do  not  know  the  murderer,  and  the  purple 
weighs  mucli  more  than  one  life,  for  with  many  thousand  Hves 
is  that  often  paid.  And  then,  Lucilla,  you  know  I  like  cheer- 
ful faces,  and  vengeance   has  a  gloomy  brow.     Let  us  be 


SIG  THE   EMTEUOR. 

happy,  oh,  wife  of  a  C;\3sarl  To-morrow  I  shall  have  inii<h  to 
tell  you.  Now  I  must  go  to  a  banquet  given  by  the  soji  of  the 
rich  Plutarch;  I  can  not  stay  with  you,  truly  1  can  not,  for  I 
have  been  long  exiJected  there.  If  we  returji  to  Home,  you 
are  never  to  speak  with  the  children  of  those  dark  old  stories. 
I  do  not  wish  it.  " 

As  Verus  with  liis  torch-bearers  passed  through  the  garden 
of  the  CaBsareuni,  he  saw  a  light  in  the  room  of  Balbilla,  and 
cried,  cheerily: 

"  Good-evening,  fair  muse!" 

"  (jlood-night,  false  Eros!''  she  returned. 

"  You  adorn  yourself  in  borrowed  plumes,"  answered  he, 
laughing.  "  Xot  you,  but  the  malicious  Alexandrians,  in- 
vented that  title. " 

"  Oh,  yes!  and  still  better  ones.  It  is  hard  to  give  credit  to 
all  I  have  heard  and  seen  to-day. " 

''  And  will  you  commemorate  it  all  in  your  verse?" 

"  Only  a  small  j)art,  and  that  in  a  satirical  song  I  think  of 
dedicating  to  you." 

"I  tremble." 

"  With  joy,  I  trast.  My  jioem  will  carry  your  name  down 
to  remote  i^ostcrity. " 

"  That  is  true,  and  the  more  ill-natured  your  verses,  the 
more  certainly  will  future  ages  believe  Verus  to  be  the  Phaon 
of  Sappho  Biilbilla,  and  that  despised  love  filled  the  gentle 
songstress  with  resentment." 

-     "  Thanks  for  the  warning.     To-day,  at  least,  you  are  safe, 
for  I  am  utterly  tired  out." 

"  Did.  you  venture  ujion  the  street?" 

"  It  was  not  dangerous,  for  I  had  a  safe  companion.*' 

"  May  I  ask  who  it  was?" 

"  Why  not?    The  architect  Pontius  went  with  us." 

'•  He  knows  the  city. " 

"  And  I  would  trust  myself  imder  his  guidance  to  descend 
like  Orjiheus  into  Hades." 

"  Happy  Pontius!" 

"  Ha])pier  Verus!" 

'*  How  shall  I  understand  this  word,  charming  Balbilla?" 

"  The  poor  architect  has  the  honor  of  being  an  excellent 
guide,  but  to  you  belongs  the  whole  heart  of  your  fair  wife 
Lucilla. " 

"  And  mine  to  her,  so  far  as  it  is  not  occu])ied  by  Balbilla; 
sleep  Avell,  coy  muse." 

"  Sleep  ill,  you  irreclaimable  spirit  of  torment,"  cried  the 
girl,  as  she  dj-ew  the  curtains  over  her  window. 


THE   EMPEROR.  247 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


To  the  sleepless,  whom  misfortune  has  visited,  future  life 
apjjears  to  be  a  sea  without  limits,  upon  which  he  is  drifting 
like  a  wreck;  but  as  the  dawn  breaks,  the  friendly  light  of  a 
new  day  reveals  a  rescuing  boat  at  hand,  and  in  the  distance  a 
hospitable  coast. 

So  Pollux  watched  throughout  the  night  with  sleepless  eyes, 
for  his  whole  future  seemed  to  have  been  destroyed  on  the 
previous  evening. 

The  workshop  of  his  former  master  was  closed  to  him,  and 
ho  did  not  even  possess  the  tools  ijidispensable  for  practicing 
his  art.  Only  yesterday  he  had  confidently  hojjod  to  stand 
upon  his  own  feet;  to-day  it  Avas  imi^ossible.  As  he  opened 
the  purse  he  was  accustomed  to  lay  under  his  pillow,  he  could 
but  smile  in  spite  of  his  trouble,  for  his  fingers  could  find 
within  its  dejoths  only  two  copper  coins  and  the  dried  breast- 
bone of  a  chicken  he  had  placed  there  to  carry  to  his  little 
niece.  * 

Where  could  he  now  find  the  money  he  was  in  the  habit  of 
taking  to  his  sister  on  the  first  of  every  month? 

Pajoias,  who  had  been  a  witness  of  the  emperor's  rage,  and 
who  was  of  exactly  the  disposition  to  use  this  scene  to  his  in- 
jury, was  socially  connected  with  all  the  sculptors  of  the  city, 
and  it  was  natural  to  suppose  he  would  warn  them  all  against 
him,  and  make  it  very  difficult  to  gain  a  new  position. 

Few  feel  sympathy  for  those  in  disgrace  with  the  ruling 
powers,  least  of  all  tlwse  who  are  striving  for  their  ^^atronage. 
If  Hadrian  should  throw  ofi"  his  concealment,  it  would  be  very 
easy  to  make  him  feel  his  power. 

Would  it  not  be  wise  for  him  to  leave  Alexandria,  and  seek 
to  earn  a  living  in  some  other  Grecian  city?  It  was  only  a 
thought  of  Arsinoe  that  made  him  unwilling  to  do  this.  He 
loved  with  the  passionate  devotion  of  an  artist,  and  his  courage 
would  not  have  been  so  easily  daunted  had  not  the  eve^its  of 
the  last  evening  thrown  the  hojje  of  joosscssing  her  into  a  fur- 
tlier  distance.  How  dared  ho  venture  to  bind  her  to  his  uncer- 
tain and  threatened  future?  What  reception  could  he  expect, 
should  he  now  ask  her  hand?  When  these  thoughts  and  ques- 
tions overjiowered  him,  ho  sprung  from  his  bed,  to  walk  up 
and  down  the  little  bed]-oom,  and  press  his  forehead  against 
the  wall. 

The  morning  twilight  was  grateful,  and  as  he  eat  the  soup 


248  THE  EMPEROR. 

his  mother  set  before  him,  with  tearful  eyes,  lie  (letcrmiiied 
first  of  ;ill  to  visit  Pontius.  This  was  the  friendly  boat  which 
aiipearcd  for  his  rescue! 

JJoris  shared  the  morning  meal  of  her  son,  but  quite  ujdike 
herself  had  little  to  say,  and  sometimes  laid  her  hand  caress- 
ingly U2)on  his  hair. 

Euphorion  was  measuring  the  room  Avith  long  strides,  trying 
to  compose  an  ode  which  he  would  sing  before  the  emperor 
and  use  as  a  pra3'er  for  his  son's  forgiveness. 

After  breakfast,  Pollux  slii^ped  over  to  the  terrace,  among 
the  busts  of  the  queens,  hoi-»ing  to  get  sight  of  Arsinoe.  The 
singing  of  a  verse  in  a  loud  tone  attracted  her  to  the  balcony, 
where  they  exchanged  greetings,  and  Pollux  made  a  sign,  ask- 
ing her  to  come  to  him.  This  she  would  gladly  have  done, 
but  her  father  also  recognized  the  voice  and  sent  her  back  into 
the  chamber.     Still  the  mere  glance  had  done  goad  to  Pollux. 

Scarcely  had  he  returned  to  the  house  when  Antinous  ap- 
peared. 

This  was  the  hospitable  coast  toward  which  the  eyes  of  the 
young  sculptor  turned!  Hojie  came  back  to  his  soul,  and 
hope  is  the  sun  before  which  desjjair  iiies  away  as  the  shadows 
of  night  when  the  day-star  a23i:)ears. 

His  artistic  power  was  again  called  into  play,  and  had  a  fair 
field  for  exercise,  as  Antinous  declared  himself  at  his  disjoosi- 
tion  until  noon,  because  his  master  or  the  emperor,  as  he  did 
not  now  hesitate  to  call  him,  would  be  busy.  Titianus  had 
arrived  with  such  a  mass  of  documents  as  would  occupy  not 
only  themselves  but  the  private  secretary. 

Pollux  conducted  Antinous  into  a  room  on  the  north  side  of 
his  father's  house,  Avhere  lay  the  wax  and  the  smaller  tools  be- 
loi]ging  to  him.  His  heart  was  heavy  and  his  nerves  unstrung 
as  he  began  to  work.  Strange  thoughts  disturbed  his  soul, 
but  he  knew  that  only  when  he  concentrated  his  attention  upon 
the  work  would  he  succeed.  And  he  must  succeed.  Failure 
to-day,  with  such  a  model  before  him,  would  be  inexcusable. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  Bithynian's  beauty  waked  his 
artistic  nature  to  devotion,  and  seizing  the  pliant  stulT  he  made 
a  model  of  striking  likeness  to  the  original. 

For  a  whole  hour  not  a  word  was  spoken  between  llieiu;  <>idy 
a  sad  sigh  heaved  sometimes  the  bivast  of  Pollux. 

Antinous  at  last  broke  silence,  speaking  of  Scleiic,  whose 
image  filled  his  soid;  indeed,  his  only  reason  for  coming  to 
Pollux  was  to  be  able  to  si)eak  of  her.  While  Polhix  shaped 
the  pliant  wax,  Anthious  related  the  events  of  the  previous 
evening.     He  expressed  deep  regret  at  having  lost,  through 


TSE   EMPEROR.  249 

his  plunge  into  the  water,  tlie  silver  quiver — as  well  as  the 
injury  to  the  rose-colored  chiton,  which  was  torn  by  his  pur- 
suer from  the  garden  of  the  widow  Hannah. 

A  single  exclamation  of  surprise,  another  of  symj)athy,  a 
momentary  rest  of  the  hand  from  labor,  was  the  only  notice 
the  sculptor  seemed  to  give  to  the  sad  fate  of  Selene  and  the 
loss  of  his  master's  costly  possessions:  for  the  creative  work  of 
his  hand  seemed  to  absorb  his  whole  attention.  The  further 
it  progressed,  the  higher  rose  his  admiration.  As  under  the 
influence  of  noble  wine,  he  seemed  incorporating  his  highest 
idea].  The  artistic  jjassion  fired  his  blood,  and  drove  out  every 
other  thought  and  feeling.  Nevertheless,  he  must  have  com- 
prehended what  was  said,  for  some  time  after  he  exclaimed, 
rather  as  if  speaking  to  the  work  under  his  hand,  than  in  reply 
to  Antinous:  "Wonderful  creature!"  and  a  little  later: 
"  There  is  something  heroic  in  this  unfortunate  being." 

For  almost  four  hours  he  worked  on  incessantly;  tlien  draw- 
ing a  long  breath  he  stepped  back  from  the  table,  looking  in- 
tently at  his  work,  and  then  at  Antinous,  asking: 

"  Will  it  be  correct?" 

The  Bithynian  gave  lively  expression  to  his  satisfaction;  and, 
in  truth,  Pollux  had  accomplished  wonders  for  so  short  a  space 
of  time.  The  wax  gave  a  very  positive  impression  of  the 
whole  form  of  the  handsome  youth.  It  rejjresented  him  as 
Dionysius  led  away  by  the  pirates,  and  bore  a  striking  resem- 
blance to  the  figure  carried  through  the  streets  on  the  gilded 
shij)  of  Titianns.  Pollux  had  said  to  himself  on  the  day  be- 
fore, in  noticing  the  softly  rounded  yet  vigorous  outlines  of 
his  youthful  companion,  tliat  an  artist  could  find  no  better 
model  for  the  Nyssen  god. 

While  Pollux  was  thus  giving  definite  shape  and  exact 
measurement  to  his  work,  a  sound  of  clashing  arms  was  heard 
at  the  palace  gate,  and  immediately  afterward  the  yeli^ing  of 
the  Graces. 

As  Doris  called  back  the  dogs,  another  female  voice  was 
heard  speaking  with  her. 

Antinous  seemed  to  notice  something  unusual,  for  he  sud- 
denly left  the  position  in  which  the  sculptor  had  placed  him, 
going  to  the  window.  Then  he  said  to  Pollux,  in  a  rei)ressed 
voice : 

"  Surely,  I  was  not  mistaken;  Sabina,  Hadrian's  wife,  is 
speaking  with  your  mother." 

This  was  true;  the  empress  had  come  to  tlie  iiOchias.  She 
had  left  her  chariot  at  the  gate,  for  the  ])av('m('iit  of  the  court 
was  still  unfinished. 


350  THE   EMPEROR. 

SiibiiKi  luitcd  tlie  dogs,  of  which  licr  liiishantl  was  so  fond, 
and  tlio  clever  little  beasts  instinctively  re(]uited  the  aversion. 
On  tliat  acconut,  Doris  found  it  unusually  difficult  to  reduce 
her  jiets  to  submission,  and  Sabina,  who  was  really  terrified, 
commanded  her  to  call  them  oil  in  a  most  peremptory  man- 
ner. The  chamberlain,  who  supj^orted  her,  kicked  at  the  un- 
ruly creatures,  wliich  only  increased  their  excitement.  But  at 
last  they  were  sliut  iqi  in  the  house,  and  Doris  turned  to  the 
stranger  quite  out  of  breath,  and  Avithout  any  susi^icion  of  the 
dignity  of  the  person  before  her — for  she  had  never  seen  the 
empress,  and  had  formed  quite  a  different  imju-ession  of  her 
a])pearance — said:  "Forgive  me,  my  good  woman;  the  little 
rogues  are  good  at  heart,  and  would  not  bite  even  a  beggar; 
but  they  do  not  like  old  women.  Wliom  do  you  seek  Iiere, 
mother?" 

"  That  you  will  soon  learn,"  answered  Sabina,  harshly. 
"  What  a  commotion,  Lentulus,  the  activity  of  I*ontius  has 
made  liere!  vVnd  how  it  would  look  within  if  this  shanty 
should  remain  to  disfigure  the  entrance?  It  must  go,  together 
with  its  inhabitants.  Oj-der  this  woman  to  lead  us  to  the 
]{oman  lord  dwelling  here." 

The  chamberlain  did  as  commanded,  and  Doris  began  to 
sus23ect  with  whom  she  had  to  do,  and  said,  as  she  smoothed 
out  her  garment  and  bowed  profoundly: 

"What  great  honor  is  this,  your  highness?  Perhaps  you 
^•e  wife  of  the  emperor.     If  that  be  the  case — " 

.Sabina  made  a  gesture  of  impatience  toward  her  chamber- 
lain, wJio  interruiited  the  speech  of  the  old  woman  with  the 
Avords: 

"  Hush,  and  show  us  the  way." 

Doris  was  more  sensitive  than  usual,  and  her  eyes,  still  red 
from  weeijing  over  the  misfortune  of  Pollux,  again  filled  with 
tears.  IS'o  one  had  ever  spoken  to  her  in  such  a  tone,  but  for 
her  son's  sake  she  restrained  herself  from  making  answer  in 
the  same  contemptuous  coin. 

She  trudged  on  silently  before  the  empress,  leading  her  to 
the  Hall  of  the  Muses,  where  she  relinquished  her  charge  to 
JV)ntius.  Tlie  reverence  he  showed  the  stranger  convinced 
Doi'is  that  her  suspicion  Avas  correct — this  could  be  no  other 
than  the  empress. 

"  A  perverse  vixen!"  said  Sabina,  as  she  Avent  out,  pointing 
her  finger  at  Doris. 

That  Avas  too  much.  ^Phe  i)Oor  old  wonuui  tlircAv  lierself 
<l<)\vn  u])on  a  seat,  buried  her  face  iji  her  hands,  and  Avept  bit- 
terly.    1'he  earth  seemed  givhig  way  under  her  feet.     The 


THE   EMPEROK.  251 

emperor  had  threatened  her  son,  and  now  the  most  powerful 
woman  in  the  world  had  become  the  enemy  of  herself  and- her 
house.  She  saw  the  family  cast  into  the  street,  and  asked 
what  would  become  of  them  all  should  she  lose  her  position. 
Her  husband's  memory  was  growing  weaker,  his  voice  was  less 
satisfactory,  and  her  own  vigor  was  diminishing  with  the  years. 
The  sum  laid  aside  for  a  day  of  need  was  very  small.  The 
fresh  and  cheery  old  woman  was  in  despair.  And  it  was  not 
alone  the  threatening  need  which  so  pained  her.  It  was  the 
disgrace  which  would  follow,  it  was  the  injury  to  her  sensibili- 
ties that  she,  who  from  youth  every  one  had  met  with  kindli- 
ness, should  have  so  excited  the  displeasure  of  the  woman 
whose  favor  she  needed  to  gain. 

Sabina's  entrance  had  driven  the  good  sjiirits  from  the 
Lochias. 

This  Doris  was  learning,  but  she  was  not  one  of  those  who 
yield  to  hostile  powers  without  resistance. 

For  a  few  moments  she  gave  way  to  sorrow,  and  sobbed  like 
a  child,  then  she  dried  her  eyes,  and  found  in  her  lightened 
heart  the  benefit  of  tears.  Gradually  she  was  able  to  think 
more  composedly,  and  said  to  herself: 

"  Only  the  emperor  has  authority  here,  and  it  is  said  that 
he  does  not  always  agree  with  his  ill-natured  wife,  or  ask  after 
her  wishes.  He  is  angry  with  Pollux,  yet  he  has  .always 
seemed  friendly  to  me.  My  dogs  and  my  birds  pleased  him, 
and  has  he  not  also  eaten  of  my  food?  If  I  can  only  get  an 
opportunity  to  speak  with  him  alone,  perhaps  all  will  come 
out  right. " 

With  these  thoughts  she  rose.  As  she  reached  the  vestibule 
she  met  Gabiuius,  the  relic-hunter,  who  had  come  to  the 
Lochias  in  accordance  with  the  request  of  Pontius . 

Since  the  previous  evenmg  a  suspicion  of  the  emperor's  pres- 
ence m  Alexandria  had  been  in  circulation.  Where  it  started, 
and  on  what  grounds  it  rested,  no  one  could  say.  It  was 
simply  there,  spreading  through  all  circles,  and  growing  in 
strength.  There  is  no  growth  so  rapid  as  that  of  a  rumor, 
and  yet  it  is  a  poor  foimdling  that  knows  not  its  own  parent- 
age. 

The  rehc  dealer  looked  at  her  in  surprise,  as  ho  passed  on 
into  the  palace,  while  she  was  considering  whether  to  wait 
here  for  the  emperor  or  return  to  her  own  house.  Before 
reacliing  a  decision,  Pontius  appeared,  who  had  always  shown 
himself  so  kind  that  she  ventured  to  relate  to  him  her  son's 
experience  with  the  emperor. 

This  was  not  new  to  Pontius,  but  he  advised  her  to  yfait  un- 


252  THE    EMPEKOR. 

til  lliidrian  slioiilil  be  in  better  mood,  and  promiscMl,  in  tiny 
eveilt,  to  do  what  ho  could  for  Polhix,  wlio  liad  woji  his  love 
and  resj)eL't.  At  jn-esent  he  was  compelled  to  go  away  from 
the  city  on  a  commission  for  the  emperor,  who,  in  passing 
Mount  Casius,  had  seen  a  monument  erected  on  the  s^iot 
whei-e  the  great  Pomjiey  had  been  murdered.  This  monu- 
ment had  fallen  into  decay,  and  he  determined  to  set  up  a 
jiew  one  in  its  place,  and  had  commissioned  Pontius  to  under- 
take it,  leaving  the  unfinished  work  u])on  the  Jjochias  to  his 
own  direction.     Oabinius  had  been  summoned  to  his  aid. 

While  they  were  speaking,  Hadrian  and  his  wife  ajiproached. 
The  instant  Pontius  recognized  them,  he  said,  in  a  lower  tone: 

"  I  will  see  you  again,  little  mother.  Step  one  side,  the 
emperor  and  empress  are  coming,'^  and  quickly  disappeared. 

Doris  shipped  behind  a  curtain  which  hung  aci-oss  a  tloor-way, 
for  she  would  as  Avillingly  have  come  into  contact  with  a  wild 
animal  as  to  meet  agahi  the  jiroud  woman  from  whom  she 
could  expect  only  insult  and  injur}'. 

The  interview  with  Hadrian  had  lasted  barely  quarter  of  an 
hour,  and  could  not  have  been  agreeable,  for  the  face  of  the 
emperor  was  hotly  flushed,  and  the  li^^s  of  Sabina  were  color- 
less, while  one  might  have  seen  a  restless  twitching  of  her 
painted  cheeks. 

As  they  jmssed  by  Doris  heard.  Hadrian  say: 

"  In  smaller  things  I  let  you  act  as  you  please;  the  greater 
decisions,  as  in  this  case,  I  make  exclusively  according  to  my 
own  judgment. " 

These  words  were  the  fiat  of  destiny  to  the  gate-house  and 
its  iidiabitants,  for  among  the  "smaller  things^'  to  which 
Hadrian  alluded  was  the  removal  of  the  gate-house  and  its  in- 
habitants. 

Sabina  had  demanded  this  of  her  husband,  because  it  was  dis- 
agreeable to  every  one  visiting  the  I^ochias  to  be  met  by  such  a 
threatening  mcgan-a,  and  attacked  l)y  her  dogs.  Doris  had  so 
little  suspicion  of  the  significance  of  the  emj^eror's  words  that 
tiiey  actually  gave  her  pleasure,  for  how  could  she  inuigine 
tliat  the  disjiosition  of  her  house  and  the  destiny  of  her 
family  could  belong  among  the  *'  smaller  things.'" 

Sabina  had  now  left  with  her  chamberlain,  and  Hadrian 
stood  alone  with  Master.  The  old  woman  thought  she  would 
not  easily  find  a  more  favorable  moment  in  wdiich  to  approach 
and  beg  the  emperor's  generosity  toward  herself,,  and  his  for- 
giveness for  her  son. 

He  stood  with  his  back  toward  lier.  Could  she  have  seen 
the  terrible  look  upon  liis  face  she  must  have  remembered  the 


THE   EMPEROR.  253 

advice  of  the  architect,  and  would  have  postponed  her  re- 
quest. 

How  many  destroy  their  own  good  cause  by  insisting  upon 
some  immediate  decision,  because  they  have  not  strength 
enough  to  wait  a  favorable  moment! 

Present  uncertainty  seems  oftentimes  harder  to  bear  than 
an  adverse  fate  in  the  future. 

As  Doris  stepped  out  of  the  side  room  the  kind-hearted  Mas- 
tor,  wishing  to  spare  the  good  woman's  humiliation,  made  her 
a  sign  to  go  back  and  not  disturb  the  emperor,  but  she  was  so 
preoccupied  by  her  anxiety  and  her  wishes  that  she  did  not 
notice  it. 

As  Hadrian  turned  to  leave  she  took  heart,  and  placing  her- 
self before  the  door,  attempted  to  fall  upon  her  knee  before 
him.  That  was  hard  for  the  old  bones,  and  Doris  was  forced 
to  support  herself  against  the  door-post  not  to  lose  her  equi- 
librium. Hadrian  recognized  the  j^etitioner,  but  to-day  he 
had  no  friendly  word,  and  the  look  he  cast  ujwn  her  was  any- 
thing but  gracious.  How  had  he  ever  seen  any  tiling  agreeable 
in  this  forlorn  old  creature? 

Ah!  the  poor  Doris  was  indeed  quite  another  person,  in  her 
own  little  house,  among  the  flowers  and  birds  and  dogs,  than 
in  the  wide  sjjace  of  a  grand  jialace.  Thousands  who  com- 
mand respect  and  awaken  pleasure  in  their  ajijoroj^riate  sur- 
roundings excite  quite  diiferent  feelings  when  thrown  into 
those  where  they  do  not  belong.  Doris  had  never  made  so 
unfavorable  an  impression  upon  Hadrian  as  on  this  day,  in 
this  decisive  hour  of  her  life. 

She  had  come  directly  from  the  kitchen  hearth,  at  the  sum- 
mons of  the  emjoress,  after  her  sleepless  night,  with  her  gray 
hair  hi  disorder,  and  her  good,  clear  eyes,  the  ornament  of 
her  face,  red  from  weejiing.  The  neat,  wholesome,  motherly 
Doris  was  anythiug  but  herself  to-day,  and  to  the  eyes  of  Had- 
rian seemed  oidy  one  of  the  old  hags  whose  meeting  in  going 
out  of  a  place  always  foreboded  ill-luck. 

"  Oh,  Cwsar!  great  Csssr!"  she  cried,  lifting  her  hands, 
soiled  from  contact  with  the  cooknig  utensils;  "  my  son,  my 
unfortunate  Pollux!" 

"  Out  of  the  way!"  said  Hadrian,  roughly. 

"  He  is  a  sculjitor,  a  good  one,  who  already  exceeds  some  of 
the  masters;  and  if  the  gods — " 

"  Out  of  tlie  way,  I  say.  I  will  liear  nothing  of  the  insolent 
boy!"  cried  Hadrian,  disdainfully. 

"  But,  great  Caisar,  he  is  my  son,  and  you  knoM'  a  moth- 
er— " 


254  THE   EiMPEROR. 

"  Master,"  broke  in  the  emperor,  "  remove  the  old  woman, 
and  give  me  jicace. " 

"Oil,  sire!  sire!"  said  the  distracted  woman,  with  stream- 
ing tears,  while  the  slave  lifted  her  aside;  "  how  can  you  be 
so  hard!-'  Am  I  not  the  same  old  Doris  with  whom  you  jested, 
and  whose  food  you  enjoyed?" 

These  words  recalled  to  Hadrian  the  hour  of  his  arrival  on 
the  Lochias.  He  perceived  that  he  was  in  the  debt  of  the  old 
woman;  and,  accustomed  to  ai;t  with  generosity,  he  added: 

"  For  your  good  dish  you  will  receive  a  sum  large  enough  to 
buy  a  new  house.  An  allowance  shall  be  paid  you,  but  within 
three  hours  you  must  leave  the  Lochias." 

The  emperor  spoke  rapidly,  as  if  wishing  to  hasten  through 
an  unpleasant  affair,  and  jjassed  on  by  Doris,  who  was  now 
standing  upon  her  feet,  and  leaning,  half  stunned,  against  the 
door-post.  Were  he  still  present  and  waiting  for  her  words, 
she  could  not  have  qiokcn. 

To  the  emperor  belonged  the  attributes  of  Jupiter:  and  as 
lightning  hurled  by  the  father  of  the  gods,  so  had  his  fiat  shat- 
tered all  the  ha23i:>incss  of  one  peaceful  home. 

Doris  shed  no  more  tears.  The  frightful  shock  which  had 
convulsed  her  soul  took  away  also  her  iiliysieal  strength.  Her 
knees  trembled,  and  feeling  herself  unable  to  go  home,  she 
sunk  down  U2)on  a  bench,  staring  helplessly,  and  yet  trying  to 
think  what  she  ought  to  do. 

In  one  of  the  lately  renovated  halls  stood  Hadrian.  He 
luid  begun  to  repent  his  harshness  toward  the  Avoman  who  had 
shown  herself  so  friendly  both  to  him  and  to  his  favorite. 

"  Where  is  Antinous!''"  he  asked  of  Mastor. 

"  He  went  to  the  little  house  of  the  gate-keeper." 

"  What  is  he  doing  there?" 

"  I  believe  he  will —    He  had  there,  perhaps — " 

"The  truth,  fellow." 

"  He  is  with  the  sculptor  Pollux." 

"  Has  he  been  there  long?" 

"  I  do  not  know  exactly." 

"  How  long,  I  ask?" 

"  He  went  out  just  after  you  shut  yourself  in  with  Titi- 
an us." 

"  Three  hours,  three  full  hours,  in  the  house  of  that  brag- 
gart whom  I  turned  out  of  the  palace!" 

Hadrian's  eyes  Hashed  with  i-age  Avhile  he  said  this.  The 
vexation  about  his  favorite,  whosu  coniijanionshi})  he  felt  un- 
willing to  shai-e  with  any  one,  and  least  of  all  with  I'ollux, 
choked  every  kind  feeling,  and  with  indignation  bordering  on 


THE   EMTEROR.  255 

rage,  he  commandefl  Master  to  summon  him  at  once^  aiul 
then  see  to  it  that  the  gate-keeper's  house  was  vacated. 

"  Take  a  dozen  slaves  to  help,"  he  cried.  "  For  aught  I 
care,  the  j^eople  can  carry  their  goods  to  a  new  house,  but  I 
will  never  again  see  the  howling  old  woman  or  her  idiotic  hus- 
band. I  have  given  the  sculptor  to  nnderstaud  that  the  em- 
peror has  a  firm  tread,  and  easily  tramples  down  the  snakes 
that  creep  across  his  path." 

Mastor  went  away  sad.  Hadrian  went  to  his  work-room, 
and  said  to  his  private  secretary,  Phlegon : 

"  Write!  A  new  gate-keeper  is  to  be  appointed  for  this 
palace.  Continue  the  j)ay  of  Eui^horion,  and  let  half  a  talent 
be  lYdid  him  by  the  ijrefect.  Also,  give  to  the  man  immedi- 
ately what  is  necessary,  for  in  one  hour  neither  he  nor  his 
family  must  be  found  on  the  Lochias.  Hereafter  let  no  one 
speak  to  me,  or  write  to  me,  of  any  one  of  them.  We  con- 
sign the  whole  race  to  the  company  of  the  dead." 

Phlegon  bowed,  and  said: 

"  The  relic  dealer,  Gabinius,  is  in  waiting."' 

"He  comes  at  an  opportune  moment,"  cried  the  emperor. 
"  After  all  these  vexations  it  will  do  me  good  to  hear  of  beau- 
tiful things." 


CHAPTER  IX„ 

It  was  certainly  true.  The  appearance  of  Sabina  had  driven 
the  good  spirits  from  the  palace  on  the  Lochias.  The  com- 
mand of  the  emperor  fell  upon  the  little  house  at  the  gate  Mice 
a  whirlwind  among  a  hea])  of  withered  leaves.  Its  inhabitants 
had  not  time  to  fully  realize  their  misfortune,  for  instead  of 
lamentation  active  work  was  necessary.  The  tables,  chairs, 
couches  and  musical  instruments,  the  baskets,  flower-pots, 
bird-cages,  the  kitchen  ntensils  and  chests  of  wearing  apjiarel, 
were  hurried  pell-mell  into  the  court — and  Doris  gave  direc- 
tion to  the  slaves  Mastor  brought  with  as  much  clearness  and 
carefulness  as  though  simply  moving  from  one  house  into  an- 
other. A  glance  of  sunny  cheerfulness  shone  again  in  her  eyes. 
She  said  to  herself  that  what  had  occurred  belonged  to  the  in- 
evitable, and  it  was  wiser  to  think  of  the  future  tlian  of  the 
j)ast.  She  seemed  to  liave  quite  recovered  her  old  self,  and  as 
she-  saw  Euphorion  sitting  in  a  broken  attitude,  staring  hope- 
lessly at  the  floor,  she  called  out  to  him: 

"  After  the  sad  days  come  always  the  joyful  ones  agaiji! 
Let  them  not  succeed  in  making  ns  unhapjiy!  We  have  done 
nothing  wrong,  and  so  long  as  we  do  not  believe  ourselves 


256  THE    EMPEROR. 

misemblo  we  sluill  not  be  so.  Only  hold  up  the  heiKl!  Up, 
old  man,  up]  (Jo  to  Diotima  and  ask  her  to  encertain  ns  and 
our  jjoods  for  a  few  days." 

"  If  only  tiie  enijieror  should  not  carry  out  liis  threat!"  sug- 
gested Euphorion,  gloomily.     "  What  is  life?" 

"A  wretched  allair,  indeed,  and  therefore  it  is  wise  to  en- 
joy still  what  wc  ])ossess.  Pour  out  a  cup  of  wine,  Pollux,  for 
nie,  and  for  your  father.     Put  to-day  it  need  not  be  mixed.  '* 

"  I  can  not  drink,"  sighed  the  musician. 

''  'J'hen  1  will  take  your  share!" 

"  1^0  not,  mother,"  begged  Pollux. 

"  Mix  it,  my  boy,  mix  it  a  little,  but  do  not  carry  such  a 
despairing  face.  Js  it  fitting  for  a  fresh  young  fellow  Avho 
carries  a  trade  in  his  vigorous  hand  and  the  fairest  of  girls  in 
his  heart?" 

'"'  For  my  own  sake,  mother,"  returned  the  young  sculptor, 
"  I  am  not  anxious.  But  how  can  I  go  to  Arsiuoe  in  the 
palace,  or  deal  with  the  mad  Keraunus?^'' 

"Ask  that  question  of  Time,"  answered  Doris.  "She  is 
able  to  give  botli  good  and  bad  answers.  The  best  always  to 
those  who  wait  for  her  in  the  vestibule  Patience — " 

"  A  very  poor  waiting-place  for  such  as  I,"  sighed  Pollux. 

"  Only  sit  still  and  knock  on  the  door,  "answered  Doris, 
"  and  before  you  can  look  round  Time  will  call  out  '  Come 
in  V  Now  show  the  peojjle  how  to  handle  the  statue  of  Apollo, 
and  be  again  my  cheery -hearted  boy!" 

Pollux  did  as  she  bade  him,  but  he  thought:  "  She  speaks 
well,  but  there  is  for  her  no  Arsinoe  left  behind.  Had  I  at 
least  only  arranged  to  meet  Antinous  agaui!"  But  after  the 
command  of  the  emperor,  the  youth  seemed  like  one  who  had 
received  a  blow  on  the  head,  and  he  staggered  in  going  out  as 
one  on  his  way  to  the  altar  of  sacrifice. 

The  confidence  of  Doris  seemed  to  be  not  without  groimds, 
for  Phlegon  now  came  in  to  inform  her  of  the  regular  stipend 
and  the  half  talent  the  emperor  had  ordered  paid  to  Eu- 
j)horion. 

"  Do  you  not  see,"  she  cried,  as  the  messenger  departed, 
"that  a  good  day  is  already  dawning?  A  half  talent!  Such 
rich  i^eople  as  Ave  are  now  have  nothing  to  fear  from  want. 
What  do  you  think?  Would  it  not  be  fitting  that  we  pour  out 
half  the  cup  of  wine  before  the  gods,  while  we  drink  the  rest?" 
She  was  cheery  as  if  preparing  for  a  wedding,  and  Pollux  soon 
caught  her  spirit,  for  he  felt  that  a  i)art  of  the  burden  was 
lifted  from  his  i>arents  and  his  sister.  T'he  dro()])ing  heart 
needed  but  a  few  dro])s  of  friendly  dew.     He  thought  again  of 


THE    EMPEROR.  357 

lii.s  art,  determining  at  once  to  finish  the  statue  of  Antinous  so 
well  begun. 

AVliile  in  the  house  sujicrintcnding  the  removal  of  his  work, 
Papias  entered  the  court,  on  his  way  to  put  a  few  finishing 
touches  to  the  work  in  the  ^lalace,  and  wished  to  make  an- 
other attempt  to  ingratiate  himself  in  the  emperor's  favor. 
He  was  anxious  lest  Pollux  should  now  betray  how  little  share 
of  the  work  which  had  brought  him  more  praise  than  all  his 
former  undertakings  really  belonged  to  himself.  It  would 
have  been  to  his  advantage  to  set  aside  his  pride,  and  by  some 
generous  offer  induce  Pollux  to  return  to  his  service;  but  he 
had  been  so  carried  beyond  himself  on  the  previous  evening, 
in  speaking  of  the  young  sculjjtor  to  the  emperor  as  a  2)oor 
^vorkman,  and  had  given  such  lively  expression  to  his  joy  on 
being  freed  from  him  that  he  could  not  retreat. 

Now  there  remained  to  him  the  alternative  of  removmg 
Pollux  from  Alexandria,  or  in  some  other  way  nuiking  him 
harmless.  The  thought  occurred  to  him  of  hiring  an  assassin 
to  commit  murder;  but  Papias  was  a  peaceable  citizen,  and 
unwilling  to  overstep  the  law,  so  he  rejected  that  thought  as 
imworthy  and  abhorrent.  He  was  not  very  scrupulous  in  the 
employ  of  means,  not  hesitating  to  work  in  an  underhand 
manner,  or  to  calumniate  a  fellow-being,  and  in  such  ways 
had  often  gained  a  victory  over  some  hostile  fellow-artist.  He 
hated  the  son  of  the  gate-keeper  less  than  he  feared  him,  and 
did  not  hide  from  himself  the  fact  that  if  his  effoi'ts  failed,  and 
Pollux  should  succeed  in  establishing  himself,  and  showing 
what  he  was  capable  of,  he  could  not  prevent  his  proclaiming 
the  assistance  rendered  to  his  master  in  these  last  years.  His 
attention  was  arrested  by  slaves  carrying  the  household  goods 
of  Euj)horion  into  the  street.  Soon  learning  what  had  hap- 
peiied,  and  rejoicing  in  this  exhibition  of  the  omjocror's  ill-will, 
ho  stood  still,  and  asked  some  one  to  call  Pollux.  Master  and 
2)upil  exchanged  greetings  with  coolness,  and  the  former  said: 

' '  You  have  forgotten  to  return  the  things  you  took  yester- 
day without  my  jjermission.     I  want  them  to-day. " 

"  They  were  not  borrowed  for  myself,  but  for  the  great  lord 
and  Ms  comisanion  in  the  palace  yonder.  If  anything  be  lost, 
he  is  resj)onsible.  I  am  sorry  that  I  included  the  silver  quiver, 
for  the  comiDanion  of  the  Iioman  has  lost  it.  So  soon  as  I 
have  finished  this  work,  I  will  bring  all  the  articles  to  you,  and 
also  remove  whatever  of  my  own  is  in  your  workshop. " 

"  Very  well,''  aiiswered  Papias,  "  I  will  expect  you  an  hour 
before  siuiset,  and  then  all  things  can  be  arranged." 

Without  a  parting  salute,  he  turned  his  back  and  entered 


258  TITK    EMTRROR. 

the  i)alace.  This  coiifcs.sioii  of  Pollux  that  ho  had  taken  some 
of  his  pro])ert3'  without  pLTinisslon,  and  among  them  one 
article  of  (.'onsiderable  value,  might  furnish  an  opportunity  for 
putting  him  out  of  the  way. 

lie  remained  scarcely  half  an  hour  in  the  palace,  and  then 
— while  Pollux  accompanied  his  parents  to  the  residence  of  his 
sister — he  went  to  the  general  officer  of  the  night  police. 
Papias  was  on  intimate  terms  with  this  man,  and  since  he  luui 
made  a  sarcophagus  for  hi*^  deceased  Avife,  and  an  altar 
decorated  with  pictures  in  relief  for  his  apartments  at  a  rea- 
sonable rate,  he  dared  venture  to  rely  on  his  kind  offices. 

When  he  came  out  he  held  an  order  for  the  arrest  of  Pollux 
in  his  hand,  on  the  charge  of  having  stolen  from  him  a  quiver 
of  solid  silver.  The  officer  had  also  promised  to  send  two  of 
his  agents  to  convey  the  evil-doer  to  the  prison. 

Papias  went  home  with  a  lightened  heart. 

Pollux  returned  to  the  j^alace,  after  having  seen  the  house- 
hold goods  of  his  parents  in  order,  and  there  to  his  joy  he  met 
Mastor,  who  brought  the  articles  borrowed  by  Hadrian  and 
Antinous.  The  .Jazygean  also  related,  with  tears  in  his  eyes, 
a  sad  story  which  deeply  moved  the  young  sculptor,  and  in 
spite  of  every  danger  would  have  induced  him  to  enter  the 
palace  but  for  the  appointment  with  Papias,  the  time  for  which 
was  close  at  hand.  Wishing  nothing  else,  and  scarcely  think- 
ing of  anything  else  than  a  speedy  return  to  the  Lochias, 
where  his  jjresence  was  needed,  and  where  the  heart  led  him, 
lie  took  the  packet  from  the  hand  of  the  slave  and  hastened 
onward,  arriving  at  the  house  of  Pai:)ias  quite  out  of  breath. 
His  old  master  had  takenpains  to  send  every  other  person  from 
the  house,  and  received  Pollux  alone.  He  named  the  articles 
piece  by  piece,  with  an  icy  coldness  of  manner,  demanding 
their  restoration. 

"I  have  already  told  j^ou,'' cried  Pollux,  "  that  the  great 
lord  from  Rome — you  know  very  well  who  he  is — is  responsi- 
ble for  these  articles,  and  will  not  fail  to  make  reparation  for 
the  torn  chiton  and  the  missuig  quiver. '^ 

Then  he  began  to  relate  to  him  how  Antinous  had  ordered 
the  masks  and  costumes  in  the  name  of  his  master.  But  Papias 
cut  him  olf  in  the  outset,  vehemently  claiming  the  bow  and 
quiver,  whose  value  Pollux  would  not  be  able  to  earn  wiiiu'n 
two  years.  The  youth,  whose  heart  and  thoughts  were  all  on 
the  Locliias,  and  at  no  price  wished  to  be  detained  longer 
than  necessity  rcfjuired,  begged  at  fir«t,  politely,  that  l^vpias 
would  release  him,  [)romisiug  to  l)ring  full  Kalisi'ac.tion  tlie 
next  day,  after  <-laimiiig  a  just  xemune ration  from  tlie  Koimui. 


THE   EMPEROR.  259 

But  as  Papias  again  and  again  interrupted,  obstinately  insist- 
ing on  the  immediate  replacement  of  his  jjossessions,  the  ex- 
citable blood  of  the  young  artist  rose,  and  he  made  joassionate 
re})ly  to  his  attacks  and  questions.  One  word  led  on  to  an- 
other. Papias  at  last  spoke  of  peoj^le  who  laid  hands  on  the 
silver  of  others,  and  when  Pollux  retorted  by  refereiice  to  some 
who  claimed  the  work  of  other  people  as  their  own,  Papias 
struck  heavily  u2:)on  the  table  with  his  fist,  and  going  toward 
the  door,  far  eiiough  to  be  safe  from  the  vigorous  arm  of  the 
excited  youtli,  exclaimed : 

"  You  thief,  I  will  show  you  how  such  persons  are  treated 
in  Alexandria." 

Pollux  turned  pale  with  rage  and  plunged  after  him,  but 
Papias  had  called  to  the  bailiff  hidden  in  the  vestibule: 

"  Seize  the  thief,  chain  him,  fetter  him,  drag  him  to  prison. 
He  has  stolen  my  silver,  and  lifted  liis  hand  against  his  mas- 
ter." 

Pollux  was  too  much  astounded  to  understand  the  meaning 
of  this  scene.  Like  a  bear  confronted  by  its  hunters,  he  stood 
at  bay.  Should  he  plunge  upon  his  jDersecutor  and  tear  him 
to  the  ground?  or  should  he  inactively  wait  to  see  what  would 
happen?  lie  knew  every  stone  in  the  house  of  his  master. 
The  room  they  were  in,  like  all  the  others,  was  on  the  ground- 
floor.  While  the  bailiff  was  coming  nearer,  and  Papias  handed 
to  the  lictor  his  order  for  arrest,  his  eye  fell  upoji  a  window 
opening  on  the  street,  and,  filled  with  the  one  desire  to  gain 
freedom  and  fly  to  the  help  of  Arsinoe,  he  sprung  through  it. 

"  The  thief!  stoj)  the  thief!"  rang  after  him  as  he  plunged 
forward. 

The  passionate  cry  within  his  heart:  "To  the  Lochias!  to 
Arsinoe!  Only  keep  free  for  her  sake  to  help  her!"  was  louder 
than  the  voice  of  his  jiursuers,  and  impelled  him  forward  in 
long  leaps.  The  fresh  salt  air  from  the  sea  touched  his  glow- 
ing cheeks,  and  he  knew  the  narrow,  empty  streets  would  lead 
him  to  the  wharf,  where  among  the  high  piles  of  wood  lie 
might  lie  concealed  from  his  pursuers.  Ikit  turning  into  one 
of  these,  an  Egyptian  cattle-driver  thrust  a  goad  between  his 
legs,  over  which  he  stumbled  and  fell  to  the  ground.  Instant- 
ly one  of  the  dogs  in  pursuit  tore  the  chiton  from  his  body, 
and  many  men  ])lunged  upon  him.  One  hour  later  he  found 
himself,  bitten,  bruised,  bound,  in  prison,  among  vile  fellows 
and  g(!nuine  thieves.  I'he  night  had  fallen;  his  parents  were 
ex])('ctiug  him,  but  lie  did  7iot  ap])e;u-. 

Upon  th(!  Lodiias,  which  lie  hail  not  succeeded  in  reaching, 
were  trouble  and  misery  enough,  and  tlic  only  person  who 


260  THE   EMPET^OR. 

might  hava  carried  comfort  lo  (lie  despairing  Arsinoc  was 
missing. 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  recital  of  the  slave  Mastor,  which  liad  so  deeply  moved 
Pollux  and  occasioned  his  reckless  lliglit,  was  one  of  events 
occurring  in  tlie  quarters  of  the  j^alace  overseer  simultaneously 
with  the  ]-cmoval  of  Euphorion  and  his  household  goods  to  the 
narrow  dwelling  of  Diotima. 

Keraunus  certainly  could  not  he  classed  among  the  cheerful, 
but  on  the  morning  of  Sahina's  visit  to  the  Lochias  he  had  tlie 
appearance  of  inwai'd  content. 

Since  his  visit  to  Selene,  on  the  i^revious  day,  he  had  no 
more  anxiety  on  her  account.  She  was  not  dangerously  sick, 
was  well  nursed,  and  the  children  did  not  seem  to  miss  her. 
He  did  not  quite  like  to  confess  it  to  himself,  yet  it  was  true 
that  he  felt  freer  and  lighter  in  the  absence  of  this  stern  moni- 
tress,  and  the  thought  would  come  that  it  was  pleasant  to  live 
in  this  easy  way  with  Arsinoe  and  the  children.  1  le  frequent- 
ly rubbed  his  hands  together  in  a  satisfied  way  antl  smiled  to 
himself. 

As  the  old  slave  brought  in  a  large  dish  of  cakes  he  had 
ordered  her  to  buy  and  place  near  the  morning  souji  of  the 
children,  they  gave  vent  to  such  lively  delight  that  his  great 
body  shook  with  pleasure. 

And  he  had  good  reason  to  be  joyful.  Plutarch  had  sent  a 
heavy  purse  of  gold,  in  exchange  for  his  ivory  cup,  and  a  mag- 
nificent bmich  of  roses  to  Arsinoe.  He  could  well  alforcl  to 
give  the  children  a  pleasure,  and  to  buy  a  fillet  of  real  gold 
for  himself,  and  to  dress  Arsinoe  as  handsomely  as  though  she 
were  the  prefect's  daughter.  His  vanity  was  satisfied  in  all 
respects. 

And  tlien  what  a  handsome  fellow  was  the  slave,  who  now 
offered  him  the  roast  fowl  with  such  a  very  respectful  bow,  and 
would  Avalk  behind  him,  in  the  afternoon,  to  the  council!  Tlu^ 
great  Thessalian,  who  carried  the  documents  of  the  archidi- 
kastes  into  the  judicial  court,  was  scarcely  more  stately  than 
his  body-servant. 

He  luid  bought  the  fellow  yesterday,  and  at  what  a  cheap 
price ! 

The  full-grown  Samian  Mas  scarcely  thirty  years  old.  Ho 
could  read  and  write,  tcadi  the  children,  and  i)lay  the  lute. 
Jt  is  true  there  were  some  ugly  s}iots  on  his  past  record,  and 
that  was  the  reason  he  cost  so  little.     He  luid  several  times 


THE   EMPEROE.  261 

been  detected  in  stealing,  but  the  brands  and  the  stripes  "he 
bore  were  all  hidden  by  the  new  chiton,  and  Keraunus  fancied 
himself  able  to  correct  entirely  this  evil  disjjosition. 

After  charging  Arsinoe  to  leave  nothing  of  value  lying  about, 
since  their  new  inmate  might  not  be  joerfectly  reliable,  he  an- 
swered the  scruple  of  his  daughter : 

"''  It  would,  of  course,  be  more  satisfactory  were  he  as 
honorable  as  the  old  skeleton  I  threw  into  the  bargain  for  this 
one;  but  I  reason  in  this  way:  if  my  body-servant  does  really 
purloin  a  few  drachmas  I  need  not  regret  my  purchase,  since 
it  M'as  on  this  very  account  I  obtained  him  several  thousand 
drachmas  under  price;  and  a  school -master  for  the  children 
would  certainly  have  cost  more  than  he  can  steal.  I  will  lock 
up  our  gold  in  the  chest,  with  the  pajDcrs.  That  is  safe,  and 
one  would  need  a  crowbar  to  pry  it  open.  Probably  ho  will 
not  steal  anything  for  awhile,  as  his  former  master  was  not 
mild,  and  he  may  have  driven  the  evil  trait  out  of  him.  It  is 
well  that  in  the  sale  of  such  a  fellow  one  must  state  the  crimes 
of  which  he  has  been  guilty,  and,  if  it  be  omitted,  later 
possessors  can  claim  damage.  Lykophron  has  certainly  con- 
cealed nothing,  and,  if  one  could  overlook  the  thievish  disposi- 
tion, this  Samian  is  in  every  other  respect  an  excellent  fellow. " 

"  But  father,"  answered  Arsinoe,  "it  is  very  unpleasant  to 
have  a  dishonest  joerson  in  the  house. " 

"  That  you  do  not  understand,  child,"  returned  Keraimus. 
"  For  us,  life  and  honesty  are  synonymous  terms;  but  a  slave! 
King  Antiochus  is  rejjorted  to  have  said  that  he  who  wishes  to 
be  well  served  must  be  served  by  a  rogue." 

When  Arsinoe  was  attracted  to  the  balcony  by  the  song  of 
her  lover,  and  called  back  by  her  father,  Keraunus  showed  no 
unfriendliness,  but  stroked  her  cheek  and  said,  smilingly : 

"  I  believe  the  gate-keeper's  son.  whom  I  once  drove  away, 
is  looking  after  you,  since  you  have  been  chosen  to  the  part  of 
Eoxana!  Poor  fellow!  We  have  now  quite  other  suitors  in 
view,  my  girl.  What  if  the  rich  Plutarch  sent  these  roses,  not 
on  his  own  account  but  to  greet  you  in  the  interest  of  his  son? 
I  know  he  would  gladly  marry,  but  the  fastidious  fellow  has 
not  yet  found  any  Alexandrian  girl  handsome  enough.  ■" 

"  I  do  ]iot  know  him,  and  he  cares  nothing  for  such  a  jjoor 
thing  as  I  am,"  said  Arsinoe. 

"  Do  you  believe  that?"  asked  Keraunus,  laughing.  "  We 
arc  as  high  in  raid?,  perhaps  even  higher  than  Plutarch,  and 
the  fairest  best  fit  the  richest.  How  would  you  like  a  long 
purple  robe,  a  chariot  with  white  horses,  and  runners  in  ad- 
vance?" 


263  THE  EMPE-ROK, 

Kcraumis  drank  two  cups  of  strong  wine  witli  his  breakfast, 
in  wliicli  lie  allowed  Arsinoe  io  pour  only  a  few  drops  of  water. 

AVliile  she  was  curling  his  hair  a  swallow  Hew  into  the 
room.  That  was  a  lucky  omen,  and  stimulated  the  courage 
of  Keraunus. 

Well  dressed,  and  with  a  full  purse,  he  was  just  ready  to 
betake  himself  with  his  new  body-servant  to  the  council,  when 
the  latter  introduced  the  tailor  Sophilus,  with  a  female  assist- 
ant, who  came  to  beg  permission  to  try  the  costume  ordered 
by  the  wife  of  the  prefect  for  Eoxana. 

Keraunus  received  him  with  amazing  condescension,  and 
allowed  his  slaves  to  bring  in  the  great  packet  containing  the 
garments.  Arsinoe,  who  was  with  the  children,  was  called  in. 
She  was  constrained  and  anxious,  and  would  gladly  have  re- 
signed her  part  to  another,  but  she  was  very  curious  about  the 
new  clothes. 

The  tailor  requested  that  she  would  allow  her  servant  to 
array  her  in  the  costume,  suggesting  that  his  assistant  should 
be  present  to  explain  the  Asiatic  style  of  arrangement. 

"  Your  dressing-maid,"  he  added,  turning  to  Arsinoe,  "  will 
learn  to-day  how  she  is  to  arrange  the  garments  for  the  great 
occasion." 

"  My  daughter's  maid,''  answered  Keraunus,  with  a  crafty 
side  glance  at  Arsinoe,  "  is  not  at  home?" 

'*  Oh,  I  need  no  assistance,''  cried  the  seamstress;  "lean 
also  well  arrange  the  hair,  and  will  gladly  do  it  for  such  a 
lovely  young  lady." 

"  It  is  a  pleasure  to  work  for  her,"  added  Sojihilus.  "  Some 
are  made  handsome  by  their  garments;  your  daughter  will  give 
a  charm  to  whatever  she  may  wear. " 

"  You  are  very  pohte,"  said  Keraunus,  as  Arsinoe  retired 
with  the  seamstress. 

"Intercourse  with  stylish  people  has  taught  me  many 
things,"  answered  the  tailor.  "  The  ladies  in  high  life  who 
honor  me  with  their  custom  wish  not  only  to  see,  but  to  hear, 
that  they  look  well.  Unfortunately,  some  among  them  have 
been  poorly  endowed  by  nature,  and  such  especially  desire 
flattering  words.  You  know  it  pleases  the  poor  much  more 
than  it  docs  the  rich  to  be  thought  well  oft". " 

"  That  is  well  said,"  cried  Keraunus.  "  I  myself  am  not 
overabundantly  supplied  with  the  wealth  befitting  my  origin, 
and  I  willingly  live  within  my  means.  Meanwhile  my  daugh- 
ter ought — " 

"  Julia  has  chosen  the  costliest  stuiTs  for  her." 

"  As  the  occasion  demands.     Yet,  when  this  festival  is  over, 


THE   EMPEEOR.  263 

my  daughter  ought  to  appear  both  at  home  and  on  tne  street 
in  suitable  and  handsome,  if  not  costly,  garments. " 

"  I  have  already  said  that  natural  grace  needs  no  external 
adornment/' 

"  Would  you  be  willing  to  work  for  her  at  a  moderate 
price?" 

"  With  pleasure;  I  shall  be  under  obligations  to  her;  for 
every  one  will  admire  Eoxana  and  inquire  for  her  tailor." 

"  You  are  a  reasonable  man.  What  would  you  charge  foi 
a  garment?" 

"  We  will  speak  of  that  at  another  time." 

"  No,  no,  I  beg  you  sincerely." 

"  Allow  me  first  to  consider  your  wishes.  Simple  garments 
are  more  difficult  to  arrange,  and  become  handsome  women 
much  better  than  showy  ones.  But  to  make  a  woman  believe 
that,  I  can  sing  a  song  of  their  foolishness.  Many  a  woman 
rides  in  her  chariot  whose  garments  and  jewels  are  the  only 
fui-niture  of  her  house,  as  well  as  of  her  body." 

Such  was  the  conversation  between  Keraunus  and  the  tailor, 
while  his  assistant  dressed  the  hair  of  Arsinoe  with  strings  of 
imitation  pearls,  which  she  had  brought  for  the  purpose  of 
trying  their  effect,  and  fitted  on  the  rich  blue  and  white  silk 
suitable  for  an  Asiatic  princess.  Arsinoe  was  at  first  silent 
and  timid.  She  did  not  care  to  adorn  herself  for  other  eyes 
than  those  of  Pollux,  but  the  garments  purchased  for  her  were 
very  beautiful — and  how  wonderfully  the  dress-maker  under- 
stood bringing  out  all  her  best  points! 

Many  hearty  words  of  admiration  came  from  the  lips  of  this 
skillful  woman,  and  soon  Arsinoe  shared  her  enthusiasm.  As 
the  shrub  which  the  breath  of  spring  adorns  with  flowers  seems 
to  rejoice,  so  did  this  simple  child  find  j^leasure  in  her  own 
beauty  and  in  the  costly  apparel  provided  for  her.  She  clapped 
her  hands,  she  viewed  herself  in  the  mirror,  and  expressed  her 
feelings  with  the  unrestrained  freedom  of  a  child. 

"  If  Pollux  could  only  see  me!"  she  thought.  ''  After  the 
exhibition,  perhaps  I  can  show  myself  to  Selene,  and  then  she 
will  be  reconciled  to  my  pleasure  in  the  occasion.  It  is  nice 
to  be  so  pretty!" 

The  children  stood  about  her  while  she  was  being  dressed, 
and  gave  loud  expression  to  their  delight  with  the  addition  of 
each  article. 

The  blind  boy  begged  permission  to  feel  her  garment,  and 
she  allowed  his  little  hands  to  pass  over  the  soft  and  shining 
folds.  She  was  now  ready  to  show  herself  to  her  father  and 
the  tailor.     AValkiiig  Vv'ith  head  erect  like  a  veritable  king's 


2(14  THE    EMl'EKOR. 

(liiuglitor,,  and  yet  c.irryiiig  tlio  tlirobhino;  lic.irt  of  n  poor 
iu;ii<k'n,  accustomed  only  to  the  j^rotectioii  of  a  father's  house 
— about  to  sliow  herself  to  a  thousand  staring  eyes — slie  went 
toward  the  common  room.  But  slie  drew  back  the  lumd  jDlaced 
upon  the  hitch  when  she  heard  voices  of  men  who  must  have 
lately  come  in  to  her  father. 

''  Wait  a  little,  there  are  visitors/'  she  said,  and  put  her 
car  to  the  door. 

At  first  she  comprehended  nothing  of  the  conversation,  but 
at  last  it  became  so  fearfully  intelligible  that  to  her  dying  day 
she  could  never  forget. 

Keraunus  had  engaged  Sophilus  to  make  two  new  dresses  for 
Arsinoe,  beating  him  down  in  price,  and  j)romising  immediate 
l)ayment,  when  the  slave,  Mastor,  entered,  announcing  the 
arrival  of  liis  master  and  Gabinius,  who  wished  to  speak  with 
Keraunus. 

"  Your  master, '^  he  said,  proudly,  ''  can  come  in.  I  think 
he  regrets  his  injustice  to  me;  but  Gabinius  must  never  cross 
my  threshold:  he  is  a  knave.'' 

"  It  would  be  well  for  you  to  request  this  man  to  leave," 
continued  the  slave,  pointing  to  the  tailor. 

"  Whoever  visits  me  must  consent  to  meet  any  one  I  allow 
to  enter  my  house. " 

"  No,"  cried  the  slave,  earnestly,  "my  master  is  higher 
than  you  suppose.     Please  ask  the  man  to  leave." 

"  1  know  all  that,"  said  Keraunus,  laughing.  "  He  is  an 
intimate  of  the  emjjeror.  We  shall  see  after  the  representa- 
tion in  his  honor,  for  which  we  are  all  preparing,  whether  Had- 
rian will  justify  liim  or  me.  The  tailor  has  still  something 
to  do  here,  and  will  remain.  Take  a  seat  in  the  corner,  my 
friend. ' ' 

"  A  tailor!"  cried  Mastor,  incensed.  "  I  tell  you  he  must 
go  away. " 

"  He  mnsf  !"  repeated  l^eraunus,  irritated.  "  A  slave  pre- 
sume to  give  orders  to  me  in  my  own  dwelling?  We  shall  see 
about  that. " 

"  I  will  go,"  broke  in  the  sensible  tradesman;  "  you  shall 
not  get  into  trouble  on  my  account.  I  will  return  in  quarter 
of  an  hour. ' ' 

"You  shall  stay,"  reiterated  Keraunus.  "  The  impudent 
Roman  demeans  himself  as  if  the  Lochias  belonged  to  him.  I 
will  show  him  who  is  in  command  here." 

Mastor  was  not  confused  l)y  these  lofty  words;  but  seizing 
the  hand  of  the  tailor,  he  led  him  away,  whispering: 

"  Follow  me  if  you  would  escape  an  evil  hour." 


THE   EMPEROE.  2GJ 

And  Keraimus  did  not  seek  again  to  detain  them,  for  the 
thought  had  occurred  to  him  that  the  presence  of  the  tailoi 
Avould  bring  him  little  credit. 

He  wished  to  show  himself  to  the  architect  in  his  full  dignity, 
and  remembered  also  that  it  would  not  be  wise  to  irritate  this 
peculiar  man  with  his  savage  dog.  Excited,  and  not  free 
from  anxiety,  he  wallved  up  and  down  the  apartment. 

To  increase  his  courage,  he  twice  filled  and  emptied  a  goblet 
from  the  wine-jar  upon  the  breakfast-table,  and  stood  with 
folded  arms  and  flushed  cheeks  awaiting  his  visitors. 

As  the  emperor  entered,  he  passed  by  Keraimus  without  a 
word,  as  though  he  were  merely  a  pillar  or  a  piece  of  furniture. 
For  a  full  minute,  Keraunus  sought  languageto  ex2:)ress  his 
sense  of  the  outrage.  Gabiuius  followed  the  example  of  Had- 
rian, passed  directly  to  the  mosaic  for  which  he  had  offered  so 
high  a  sum  a  few  days  before,  and  said: 

"'  I  beg  you  to  examine  this  m^asteri^iece.^" 

The  emperor  looked;  but  scarcely  had  he  begun  to  inspect 
the  painting,  whose  exceeding  beauty  he  well  knew  how  to 
value,  when  he  heard  behind  him,  in  the  thick  speech  of 
Keraunus: 

"  In  Alexandria,  it  is  customary  to  greet  the  people  one 
visits.'' 

Hadrian  only  half  turned  his  head,  saying,  in  a  tone  of 
scorn : 

"  In  Rome  also,  one  salutes  honest  jjeople.'' 

Then  turning  his  attention  to  the  mosaic,  he  said  to  Ga- 
biuius: 

"  A  rare  work  truly,  and  of  inestimable  value." 

At  this  reply  of  the  emperor,  the  eyes  of  Keraunus  seemed 
starting  from  their  sockets.      With  deeply  flushed  face  and 
colorless  lips,  he  stepped  nearer  to  Hadrian,  and  as  soon  as  ho 
could  gather  breath  enough  to  speak,  he  asked: 
■  "  What  have — what  can  your  words  mean?" 

Hadrian  turned  quickly  and  squarely  toward  the  overseer. 
In  his  eyes  was  that  annihilating  glance  few  were  able  to  bear, 
and  his  deep  voice  filled  the  apartment,  as  he  said  to  the  un- 
fortunate Keraunus: 

' '  My  words  signify  that  you  have  been  an  unfaithful 
steward,  that  I  know  more  than  is  agreeable  to  you  of  the 
manner  in  which  you  have  dealt  with  that  committed  to  your 
trust. " 

"  That  I?'-*  asked  Keraunus,  trembling,  and  going  nearer 
to  the  emperor. 

"  That  you,''  continued  Hadrian,  lookhig  into  his  face. 


266  THE    EMPEROR. 

"  have  attempted  to  sell  the  mosaic  painting  from  this  floor  to 
Gabiuius;  and,  expresshig  the  thing  in  short  sj)ace,  that  you 
are  a  simpleton  and  a  rascal I'^ 

*'  I — I — *'  stammered  the  overseer,  striking  his  breast.  "  I 
a — a — you  shall  retract  those  words  I" 

Hadrian  laughed  coldly  and  scornfully,  but  Keraunus  sprung 
with  a  celerity  scarcely  to  be  expected  from  one  of  his  weight 
upon  Gabinius,  seizing  him  by  the  collar  of  his  chiton,  and 
shaking  the  lank  fellow  as  he  woidd  have  shaken  a  slender 
sapling,  screeching,  meanwhile: 

*'  I  will  make  you  swallow  your  own  calumny,  you  serpent, 
you  malicious  viper  I" 

"  Madmanl'^  cried  Hadrian,  "  let  the  Ligurian  alone!'^ 

"  Repent  I' '  stammered  Keraunus.  "  You  will  be  the  one 
to  repent  as  soon  as  the  emperor  arrives.  Then  we  shall  have 
a  reckoning  as  to  the  slander,  the  insolence,  the  disturbance 
of  a  household,  the  too  easily  credited  charges — " 

"  Man — man,"  broke  in  Hadrian,  sternly,  but  without  pas- 
sion, "  you  know  not  to  whom  you  are  speaking!" 

"  Oh,  I  know  you  only  too  well.  But  I — shall  I  tell  you 
who  I  am?" 

"  You  are  a  blockhead,"  replied  the  monarch,  with  a  scorn- 
ful shrug  of  the  shoulders. 

Then  he  added,  coldly,  with  the  air  of  stately  indifference 
belonging  to  high  rank: 

"  I  am  the  emperor!" 

For  a  few  seconds  Keraunus  stared  without  a  sound  into  the 
face  of  Hadrian.  Then  he  shrunk  together  as  if  seized  by  a 
convulsion;  and,  as  a  rock  moved  by  an  earthquake  loses  its 
equilibrium,  so  he  fell  backward  upon  the  floor  with  a  loud 
gurgling  in  his  throat. 

Tlie  building  quaked  with  his  fall.  Hadrian  was  startled, 
and  as  he  saw  him  lying  at  his  feet  motionless,  he  bowed  over 
him,  less  perhaps  through  any  feeling  of  compassion  than  to 
test  his  own  medical  skill. 

As  he  lifted  his  hand  to  fer^l  the  pulse,  Arsinoe  plunged  into 
the  apartment.  She  had  listened  breathlessly  to  the  latter  part 
of  the  conversation,  and  hearing  her  father's  fall,  rushed  past 
Hadrian  to  his  side.  When  his  distorted  and  bluish-colored 
features  revealed  to  her  what  had  happened,  she  burst  into  a 
passionate  cry.  The  little  brothers  and  sisters  cried  also,  for 
no  better  reason  at  first  than  because  Arsinoe  had  set  the  ex- 
ample, though  the  sight  of  their  father  lying  upon  the  floor 
filled  them  with  vague  terror. 

U'he  emperor,  who  had  neither  son  nor  daughter,  foimd  usu- 


THE   EMPEROR.  *  267 

ally  the  crying  of  children  an  insupportable  annoyance,  but  ho 
was  too  much  occupied  in  learning  the  condition  of  Keraunua 
CO  notice  it  for  awhile. 

"'  He  is  dead/'  said  Hadrian,  in  a  few  moments.  "  Throw 
a  cloth  over  his  face,  Mastor.'' 

Arsinoe  and  the  little  ones  Availed  anew,  which  now  seemed 
to  disturb  the  emperor.  When  his  eyes  rested  upon  Arsinoe, 
whose  joartly  sewed  garments  of  rich  and  heavy  stuff  were  fall- 
ing  a|)art,  in  consequence  of  her  rapid  motions,  he  turned  away 
with  a  feeling  of  disgust  at  the  gaudy  trumpery  of  her  ajaparel 
in  these  circumstances  of  sorrow,  and  left  the  room.  Gabinius 
followed,  with  an  ugly  leer  upon  his  face.  He  had  called  the 
attention  of  Hadrian  to  the  mosaic,  and  while  boasting  his 
own  honesty,  had  charged  Keraunus  with  having  jDrojJOsed  to 
sell  it  to  him. 

Now  the  calumniated  man  was  dead,  and  he  felt  sure  the 
truth  \vould  never  come  to  the  light.  That  thought  was  jDleas- 
ant,  but  he  found  still  greater  satisfaction  in  the  fact  that 
Arsinoe  could  not  now  appear  as  Roxana,  and  the  possibihty  of 
securing  the  part  for  his  own  daughter  reopened. 

Hadrian  walked  before  him  thoughtfully  and  in  silence.  As 
they  entered  the  work-room  of  the  emperor,  Gabinius  said: 
"  Verily,  great  CtBsar,  the  gods  punish  a  wrong-doer  with 
severe  hand." 

The  emperor  let  him  finish  the  sentence,  then  with  a  sharp 
and  scrutinizing  look  at  his  face,  said : 

"  It  seems  to  me  better  to  break  off  all  intercourse  with  you, 
and  give  the  commission  I  had  planned  to  some  other  man. " 

"My  emperor!"  exclaimed  Gabinius  "in  truth,  I  knew 
nothing — " 

"  But  I  think  you  attempted  to  lead  me  wrong,  and  put  a 
fault  of  your  own  upon  the  shoulders  of  another,"  broke  in  the 
monarch. 

"I!  great  Caesar  I  should — ''broke  in  the  Ligurian,  with 
ashy  lips. 

"You  have  played  the  overseer  a  shabby  trick,"  answered 
Hadrian;  "but  I  know  men,  and  am  sure  no  real  thief  dies 
because  he  has  been  called  a  rascal.  Only  an  undeserved 
charge  would  destroy  life." 

"  Keraunus  was  full-blooded,  and  the  shock  of  learning  that 
you  were  the  emperor — " 

"  That  undoubtedly  hastened  the  event,"  broke  in  Had- 
rian; "  but  the  mosaic  in  his  dwelhng  is  worth  a  million 
sesterces;  and  now  that  I  look  you  straight  in  the  eye,  I  know 
3'ou  are  not  the  man  to  decline  such  an  opportunity,  no  matter 


2C,S  THE  EMPEROR. 

under  what  circumstances.  If  I  am  not  mistaken,  Keraunus 
repulsed  an  attempt  of  yours  to  secure  tlie  treasure.  That  is 
certainly  the  truth.     Go,  now;  I  wish  to  he  alone.'' 

Gabinius  retired  backward,  bowing  as  he  went  toward  the 
door,  and  left  the  jDalace  on  the  Lochias,  muttering  curses. 

The  new  body-servant  of  the  overseer,  the  old  black 
woman.  Master,  the  tailor,  and  his  slave,  assisted  Arsinoe  in 
drawing  the  body  of  her  father  upon  the  coucli.  The  slave 
closed  his  eyes — he  was  dead. 

Each  one  said  this  to  the  desjDairing  girl,  but  she  could  not, 
she  would  not  believe  it.  When  she  lifted  his  heavy,  inflexible 
arm,  it  droj^ped  back  like  lead.  She  drew  the  cover  from  his 
face,  but  was  glad  to  hide  again  from  sight  the  features  death 
had  distorted.  Then  she  kissed  the  cold  hand,  and  bid  the 
children  do  the  same,  saying,  with  a  sob: 

"  We  have  no  more  a  father.  We  shall  never,  never  see 
him  again. " 

The  Ijlind  boy  touched  the  cold  corpse,  and  asked: 

"  AVill  he  not  wake  early  to-morrow  morning,  and  let  you 
curl  his  hair,  and  toss  up  his  little  Helios?" 

"  Never,  never.     All  is  over  with  him — all." 

Master  entered  the  apartment  on  an  errand  from  the  em- 
peror. He  had  not  forgotten  the  blessed  message  learned  from 
the  foreman  of  the  j^avement-layers,  23i'omising  a  blessed  life 
beyond  the  present,  and  steijping  nearer,  he  said : 

"No,  ]io,  cliildren.  When  we  are  dead,  we  shall  become 
beautiful  angels  with  bright  wings,  and  all  who  have  loved 
each  otlier  on  the  earth  will  meet  together  there,  Avitli  the  good 
God  in  heaven. " 

Arsinoe  looked  displeased,  and  answered:  "  Of  what  use  is  it 
to  deceive  the  children  with  fables?  The  father  has  gone, 
not  to  return,  but  we  shall  never  forget  him." 

"  Are  there  no  angels  with  red  wings?"  asked  the  youngest 
daughter  of  Keraunus. 

"  I  want  to  be  an  angel!"  cried  the  blind  boy,  clapping  his 
hands.     "  Can  the  angels  see,  too?" 

"Yes,  dear  child,"  answered  Mastor,  "and  their  eyes  are 
especially  clear,  and  what  they  have  to  look  upon  is  very  beau- 
tiful." 

"  Have  done  with  the  Christian  nonsense,"  begged  Arsinoe. 
"  Ah,  children,  when  our  father's  body  has  been  burned,  there 
will  be  nothing  left  of  him  but  a  little  gray  ashes." 

The  slave  took  the  little  boy  up  in  liis  arms,  and  whispered 
in  his  ear: 

"  Only  believe  me,  you  will  see  him  again  in  heaven!" 


THE   EMPEROR.  269 

As  he  placed  Helios  again  upon  his  own  feet,  he  gave 
Arsinoe  a  purse  of  gold  the  emperor  had  sent,  with  the  request 
that  she  would  seek  a  new  lodging,  and  after  the  burning  of 
the  body  on  the  next  day,  leave  the  Lochias,  with  her  brothers 
and  sisters. 

Arsinoe  oj^ened  the  chest  in  which  were  the  papers  of  her  fa- 
ther and  the  money  Plutarch  had  paid  for  the  ivory  cup.  She 
laid  the  heavy  purse  sent  by  Hadrian  beside  it,  sayhig  to  her- 
self that  at  least  they  would  be  for  a  long  time  above  want. 
Bat  where  should  she  go  with  the  children?  What  place  would 
furnish  them  shelter?  And  what  would  become  of  them  after 
the  gold  was  used  up? 

Thanks  to  the  gods,  she  was  not  deserted!  She  had  friends! 
With  Pollux  she  would  find  love  and  protection,  and  motherly 
counsel  in  Doris.  She  was  not  quite  desolate,  and  soon  she 
could  weeji  on  the  breast  of  her  lover! 

Quickly  she  dried  her  eyes,  and  exchanged  the  unfinished 
dress  of  silk  for  the  simj^le  garment  she  had  worn  in  the 
papyrus  mill.  After  loosening  the  pearls  from  her  hair,  she 
started  for  the  gate-house.  When  within  a  few  steps  of  it  she 
began  to  wonder  why  the  three  Graces  did  not  spring  out  to 
bark  at  her;  why  there  were  no  flowers  or  birds  in  the  win- 
dows. Was  she  deceived,  or  dreaming,  or  the  victim  of  mis- 
chievous spirits?  The  door  of  the  home-like  little  house  stood 
wide  open.  No  forgotten  article  or  stray  leaf  from  the  grow- 
ing plants  was  lying  upon  the  floor — for  Doris  had  left  all  in 
the  same  order  as  if  she  were  expecting  to  return  on  the  mor- 
row. 

What  had  happened  here? 

Where  were  her  friends? 

A  strange  anxiety  took  possession  of  her.  She  felt  the  jiangs 
of  desolation.  As  she  sat  down  uj^on  a  stone  bench,  thinking 
to  wait  the  return  of  those  who  must  be  coming  soon,  the 
tears  again  filled  her  eyes,  and  fell  in  heavy  drops  upon  the 
hands  lying  idly  upon  her  lap.  AVhile  she  sat  there,  a  crowd 
of  slaves  approached  the  deserted  building,  and  their  master 
ordered  her  to  leave  the  bench,  saying  they  had  been  sent  to 
l^ull  down  the  little  house,  and  telling  her  that  Euphorion  and 
J)oris  had  been  dismissed  from  service  and  sent  away  from  the 
Lochias,  with  all  their  goods.  But  no  one  knew  where  they 
had  gone.  Arsinoe  felt  like  a  mariner  whose  vessel  had  been 
driven  upon  the  rocks,  and  feels  with  terror  the  planks  and 
beams  loosening  and  giving  way  underneath  him. 

As  usual,  when  in  any  perplexity,  her  thoughts  turned  to 
Selene,  and  she  determined  to  hasten  to  her  for  advice. 


270  THE   EMPEROR. 

It  was  already  twilight. 

With  rapid  stei)s,  and  often  willing  away  the  tears  with  her 
pepluni,  she  returiicd  to  the  dwelHiig  for  the  veil,  without 
•which  she  dared  not  venture  so  late  into  the  street. 

Upon  the  steps  where  the  Molossian  had  attacked  Selene,  she 
met  some  person  evidently  in  great  haste. 

In  the  dim  light  she  fancied  a  resemblance  to  the  slave  her 
father  had  bought  the  day  before,  but  did  not  think  very  much 
about  it,  having  so  much  else  to  occupy  her  attention.  She 
found  the  old  slave  woman  sitting  beside  a  lamp  in  the  kitchen, 
■with  the  children  huddled  about  her,  and  near  the  hearth  were 
the  baker  and  the  butcher,  come  to  claim  the  payment  of  their 
long  accounts,  for  the  news  of  sorrow  has  swifter  wings  than 
a  joyful  message,  and  so  they  had  already  learned  of  Keraunus's 
death. 

Arsinoe  begged  them  to  wait  a  moment,  and  went  into  the 
room  whei-e  lay  the  corpse  of  the  man  who,  only  a  few  hours 
before,  had  stroked  her  cheeks  and  looked  lovingly  into  her 
eyes. 

How  glad  she  felt  to  be  able  to  pay  all  his  debts,  and  rescue 
his  name  from  dishonor!  Confidently  she  took  the  key  from 
her  pocket  to  open  the  chest. 

But  what  met  her  gaze? 

She  was  quite  sure  she  had  locked  it  before  going  out,  and 
yet  there  it  stood  wide  open.  The  cover,  thrown  back,  hung 
awry  upon  one  hinge;  the  other  was  broken. 

A  frightful  suspicion  chilled  her  blood.  The  lamp  trembled 
in  her  hand  as  she  bent  over  the  chest,  to  which  had  been 
trusted  their  whole  dependence. 

There  lay  the  old  manuscripts  carefully  rolled  together,  but 
the  two  purses  containing  the  gold  were  missing.  She  care- 
fully took  up  one  article  after  another,  and  ended  by  turning 
out  everything  in  the  chest.     But  the  gold  was  really  gone. 

The  new  slave  had  burst  the  cover,  and  stolen  from  the 
orphans  of  the  man  who  had  taken  him  into  his  house  oidy  to 
satisfy  his  vanity,  tbeir  whole  fortune. 

Arsinoe  uttered  a  loud  cry,  calling  in  the  creditors,  and  told 
them  all  what  had  hajipened,  begging  them  to  pursue  the 
tliief.  When  they  only  listened  with  an  mibelieving  shrug  of 
the  shoulders,  she  swore  that  she  was  speaking  the  truth,  and 
promised,  whether  tbe  slave  were  overtaken  or  not,  to  pay 
them  with  her  own  and  her  father's  ornanieiics. 

She  told  them  the  name  of  the  trader  who  had  sold  Samier 
to  her  father,  and  at  last  persuaded  them  to  attempt  the  pur- 
Buit. 


THE   EMPEROR.  271 

Again  she  was  alone.  Without  tears,  but  shivering,  and 
scarcely  able  to  maintain  her  self -control,  she  seized  the  veil, 
wound  it  about  her  head,  and  hastened  through  the  court  and 
the  streets  to  her  sister. 

Certainly,  since  the  appearance  of  Sabina  in  the  palace  on 
the  Lochias,  the  good  spirits  had  departed. 


CHAPTER  XL 

In  a  dark  corner,  under  shadow  of  the  wall  inclosing  the 
garden  of  the  widow  of  Pudens,  stood  the  cynic  who  had  en- 
countered Antinous  in  so  unfriendly  a  manner,  defending 
himself  zealously  against  the  charge  of  another  man,  who,  like 
himself,  wore  a  ragged  mantle,  and  carried  a  beggar^s  scrip, 
and  who  seemed  to  belong  to  the  same  company. 

"  Do  not  deny,'"  said  the  latter,  "  that  you  are  an  adherent 
of  the  Christians." 

"  Listen  to  me,''  was  the  earnest  reply. 

"  I  do  not  need  to  listen,  for  this  is  the  tenth  time  I  have 
seen  you  slip  out  of  their  assembly. " 

"  Have  I  denied  it?  Have  I  not  openly  declared  that  I  seek 
truth  everywhere,  if  there  be  only  a  shimmer  of  hope  to  guide 
me  toward  it?" 

"  Like  the  Egyptian,  who,  wishing  to  catch  a  strange  fish, 
cast  his  line  into  the  sand." 

"  That  man  acted  sensibly." 

"  Give  us  an  example. " 

' '  A  wonder  is  not  found  where  all  are  seeking  it.  In  search 
a,fter  truth,  one  must  not  shun  a  bog;  and  the  Christian  doc- 
trine is  just  such  a  miry  thicket." 

"  It  may  be  so,  for  all  I  care." 

"  Then  look  out  that  you  do  not  get  stuck  in  the  morass." 

"  I  will  take  care  of  myself." 

"  You  said  lately  there  were  some  good  people  among 
them." 

"A  few  individuals.  But  the  majority?  Eternal  gods! 
Mere  slaves,  beggars,  poor  trades-people,  common  folk,  uncul- 
tivated, unphilosophical  heads,  a  crowd  of  women — " 

"  Then  avoid  them!" 

"You  are  the  last  one  to  give  me  such  counsel." 

"  AVftat  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

He  stepped  nearer  to  his  companion,  and  asked,  in  a  whis- 
per: 

"  Where  do  you  suppose  I  get  the  money  for  our  food  and 
lodging?" 


272  THE  EMPEROR. 

"  So  long  as  you  do  not  steal,  I  do  not  care." 

"  If  I  give  it  uji,  will  you  then  ask?" 

"  Certainly  not.  We  are  strivijig  after  virtue,  and  slioidd 
;lo  all  we  can  to  become  independent  of  Nature  and  her  de- 
mands. Ikit  they  will  sometimes  assert  tiieir  rights.  80  out 
with  the  matter.     AVhere  do  you  get  the  money?" 

"  Money  burns  the  purses  of  those  people  in  yonder.  Alms- 
giving is  their  duty  and  their  sincere  pleasure.  So  they  be- 
stow upon  me  from  week  to  week  a  few  drachmas,  for  my 
brother  in  need.  ■" 

"  Pshaw  I    You  are  the  true  son  of  your  departed  father. " 

"  All  men  are  brethren,  say  the  Christians;  therefore  I  am 
able,  without  falsehood,  to  call  you  mine." 

"  Go  in  then,  on  my  account,"  was  the  laughing  response, 
witli  a  slap  on  the  shoulder  of  his  companion.  "  What  if  I 
should  follow  your  example,  and  join  the  Christians  also? 
Perhaps  they  might  give  me,  too,  a  weekly  stipend  for  my  hun- 
gry brother;  then  we  should  have  a  double  supply." 

The  cynics  laughed  aloud  as  they  separated;  one  going  to- 
ward the  city,  the  other  into  the  garden  of  the  Christian 
widow. 

Arsinoe  had  passed  by  these  dishonest  philosophers,  and,  with- 
out any  detention  by  the  porter,  gone  toward  the  house  of 
Hannah.  The  nearer  she  came  to  the  end  of  her  walk,  tlie 
more  earnestly  she  sought  to  devise  some  means  of  letting  her 
sick  sister  know,  without  danger,  the  frightful  events  she  must 
learn  sooner  or  later.  On  the  way  she  had  shed  no  tears, 
but  had  often  moaned.  A  woman,  walking  near,  supposed 
her  sutfering  from  headache,  and  looked  on  her  with  compas- 
sion. Once  she  stopped  short,  with  a  half  purpose  first  to  seek 
Pollux  and  ask  his  help.  But  maidenly  timidity  restrained 
her,  as  well  as  the  doubt  about  finding  him.  And  besides,  no 
2)erson  could  give  better  advice  than  Selene.  So  she  hastened 
forward  again.  When  she  reached  the  house  of  the  widow, 
aiid  stopped  again  to  think  what  she  would  say,  her  grief  broke 
forth  anew. 

Both  before  and  behind  her,  many  men  and  veiled  women, 
singly,  in  pairs,  or  lai-ger  numbers,  were  passing  into  the  gar- 
den of  the  Avidow  of  Pudens. 

They  had  come  from  workshops  and  counting-rooms;  from 
little  houses  in  the  neighboring  streets,  and  from  tie  finest 
i-esidences  of  the  city.  Each  of  them,  the  opulent  merchant 
as  well  as  the  slave  who  did  not  own  so  much  as  the  coarse 
froek  or  the  poor  apron  he  wore,  entered  with  a  certain  dig- 
nity and  earnestness. 


THE   EMPEROR.  273 

Each  greeted  every  other  within  that  gate  as  a  friend.  The 
lord  gave  to  his  servant;,  the  slave  to  his  master,  the  fraternal 
kiss,  "for  the  community  to  which  all  belonged  was  as  one  body 
animated  by  the  sjjirit  of  Christ,  and  each  treated  every  other 
member  as  an  equal,  however  they  might  differ  in  bodily  or 
spiritual  gifts,  and  in  worldly  possessions. 

Before  God  and  the  Saviour,  the  ship-owner  and  the  wise, 
gray-bearded  scholar  stood  no  higher  than  the  unprotected 
widow,  or  the  ignorant  and  crippled  slave. 

Yet,  a  difference  of  rank  was  recognized  among  them,  but  it 
was  founded  on  the  measure  of  grace  received  from  the  Lord, 
bestowed  as  His  special  gift,  and  jDertaining  to  their  inward 
condition. 

On  Sunday,  the  day  of  the  Lord's  resurrection,  the  Chris- 
tians assembled,  without  exception,  for  a  service  of  worship. 

On  this  day  (Wednesday)  all  who  were  able  came  to  attend 
a  love  feast  at  the  country  house  of  Paidina. 

She  herself  resided  in  the  city,  and  had  a  hall  capable  of 
containing  several  hundred  people  arranged  in  her  villa  for 
the  use  of  her  fellow-believers. 

The  proper  religious  service  would  be  attended  on  the  fol- 
lowing morning. 

After  the  work  of  the  day,  the  Christians  assembled  at  a 
common  table  to  eat  together,  or  at  stated  times,  to  celebrate 
the  Lord's  supper. 

After  sunset,  the  elders,  deacons  and  deaconesses  —  the 
greater  part  of  whom  were  confined  by  necessary  labor  during 
the  hours  of  daylight — came  together  for  consultation. 

Paulina,  the  widow  of  Pudens  and  sister  of  the  architect 
Pontius,  was  a  woman  of  wealth  and  a  prudent  housekeeper, 
who  would  not  have  considered  it  honest  to  diminish  the  in- 
heritance of  her  son. 

This  son  dwelt  in  Smyrna,  and  was  nominal  partner  in  the 
business  of  an  uncle.  He  avoided  Alexandria,  because  he  did 
not  hke  his  mother's  connection  with  the  Christians. 

Paulina  carefully  guarded  the  capital,  which  naturally  be- 
longed to  him,  and  paid  only  her  own  share  toward  the  support 
of  the  community,  like  the  other  wealthy  members  of  the 
circle  who  assembled  in  her  house. 

The  opulent  brought  more  than  they  needed  for  their  own 
maintenance,  and  the  poor  were  always  made  welcome,  and 
not  oppressed  by  the  benefit  received,  being  often  reminded 
that  their  host  w^as  not  a  human  being,  but  the  Saviour,  who 
invited  all  that  believed  in  Him  to  be  His  guests. 

The  hour  was  near  at  hand  which  called  Hannah  to  the  as- 


274  THE   EMPEROR. 

Bcmbly.  She  was  compelled  to  be  present  ns  a  deaconess,  and 
also  one  of  those  who  had  charge  of  distributing  uhns  and 
providing  nurses  for  the  sick. 

8he  moved  quietly  about  the  room,  making  her  prepara- 
tions. She  i)laecd  the  lamp  lichind  the  water-pitcher,  that  the 
light  might  not  strike  the  face  of  Selene,  and  gave  directions 
to  Maria  about  the  medicine. 

Aware  that  her  patient  had  attempted  to  destroy  her  own 
life  on  the  day  before,  and  suspecting  her  reason,  she  3-et  asked 
no  questions,  and  disturbed  as  little  as  possible  the  girl  who 
slept  much  or  dreamed  with  e^^es  wide  open.  The  old  phys- 
ician wondered  at  the  strength  of  her  constitution,  for  the 
fever  had  subsided  since  her  plmige  into  the  water,  and  the  in- 
jured limb  was  only  slightly  worse.  Hannah  could  but  hope 
the  best  for  Selene,  unless  some  unforeseen  accident  should  re- 
tard her  recovery.  To  avoid  this,  the  unhappy  girl  could  not 
be  left  alone,  and  Mai-ia  was  glad  to  take  her  place  in  the  sick- 
room Avhenever  she  was  obhged  to  be  absent. 

The  meeting  of  elders  and  almoners  had  already  begun, 
when  Hannah,  taking  the  tablet  upon  which  was  reconh  d  her 
weekly  expenditm-e  for  the  needy  into  her  hand,  batlc  good- 
bye to  the  sick  girl  and  Maria  with  a  friendly  look,  whispering 
to  the  latter: 

"  I  shall  remember  you,  true  soul,  in  my  prayers.  In  the 
cupboard  you  will  find  something  to  relieve  hunger.  It  is 
scant}^,  for  I  must  save  now  all  I  can;  the  last  medicine  was 
costly." 

In  the  little  vestibule  a  lamp  was  burning,  which  Maria  had 
placed  there  as  the  darkness  fell.  The  widow  stopped  before 
it,  considering  whether  she  should  put  it  out,  to  save  the  oil, 
when  a  light  knocking  upon  the  house  door  arrested  her  at- 
tention. 

Before  she  could  answer  it,  Arsinoe  stepped  inside.  Her 
eyes  were  full  of  tears,  and  with  difficulty  she  found  words  to 
return  the  greeting  of  Hannah. 

"  What  has  happened,  my  child?"  asked  the  widow,  seeing 
her  distress. 

"  Ah,  Hannah,  all  is  over.     Our  i^oor  father — " 

Suspecting  the  blow  wliich  had  fallen  on  the  sisters,  and 
anxious  about  its  ell'ect  upon  Selene,  the  widow  interrupted 
her,  saying: 

"  Hush,  my  child.  Selene  ought  not  to  hear  this.  Come 
out  with  me,  and  there  you  shall  tell  me  all." 

When  outside    the    door,   Hamiah    put  her  arm   around 


THE    EMPEROR.  275 

Arsinoe,  and,  drawing  her  tenderly  to  herself  and  kissing  her 
on  the  forehead,  said: 

''  Now  speak,  and  confide  all  to  me,  as  if  I  were  your  moth- 
er or  sister.  The  poor  Selene  is  too  weak  to  counsel  or  to 
help  you.  Keep  up  your  courage.  What  has  happened  to 
your  father?" 

"  Dead,  from  a  stroke  of  apoplexy,^'  sobbed  the  girl. 

"  Poor,  dear  orphan,"  said  the  widow,  in  an  under-tone, 
clasping  her  closely.  For  some  time  she  let  her  weej)  in 
silence,  then  she  said: 

"  Now,  give  me  your  hand,  daughter,  and  tell  how  it  hap- 
pened so  suddenly.  Yesterday  your  father  was  well,  and  now? 
Truly,  my  dear  girl,  life  is  earnest;  you  are  forced  to  learn 
that  in  your  youth.  I  know  you  have  six  younger  brothers  and 
sisters,  and,  j^erhajDS,  insufficient  means  of  support.  That  is 
no  disgrace.  I  am  certainly  poorer  than  you  are,  and  still  I 
hoj^e,  with  God's  help,  to  counsel  and  assist  you.  I  shall  do 
all  in  my  power,  but  you  must  first  tell  me  how  it  is  with  you 
and  what  you  need." 

There  was  so  much  friendliness,  so  much  to  give  comfort 
and  inspire  hope  in  the  voice  of  this  Christian  woman,  that 
the  girl  willingly  yielded  to  her  request.  At  first  ]3ride  held 
her  back  from  confessing  how  utterly  destitute  they  were. 
But  the  questions  of  Hannah  soon  brought  out  the  truth,  and 
when  Arsinoe  saw  that  it  would  be  useless  to  attempt  conceal- 
ment, she  gave  way  to  the  desire  to  relieve  her  own  soul  by 
expression,  and  described  their  forlorn  condition,  without  re- 
serve, to  the  attentive  and  kind-hearted  woman  who  made  her- 
self acquainted  with  the  need  of  each  one,  and  also  inquired 
who  was  taking  care  of  the  children  during  the  absence  of 
Arsinoe. 

On  learning  that  the  old  slave  woman,  to  whom  they  were 
trusted,  was  crijjpled,  and  half  blind,  she  shook  her  head 
thoughtfully,  saying,  with  decision: 

"  Here  instant  help  is  a  necessity.  You  must  soon  go  back 
to  the  little  ones.  Selene  ought  not  yet  to  know  the  death  of 
your  father.  When  your  destiny  is  in  any  degree  fixed,  we  will 
break  the  matter  gradually.  Follow  me  now.  The  Lord  has 
sent  you  hither  at  the  right  moment." 

Hannah  led  Arsinoe  to  the  house  of  Paulina,  bidding  her 
await  her  return  in  a  little  room  where  the  deaconesses  were 
accustomed  to  leave  their  veils  and  outside  garments;  and 
where  the  would  be  safe  from  inquisitive  eyes  and  questions 
that  give  pain. 

To  join  the  deaconesses  it  was  necessary  to  pass  through  the 


276  THE   EMPEROR. 

room  where  the  elders  and  deacons  were  assembled,  for  men 
and  women  were  not  permitted  to  hold  counsel  jointly. 

The  chairman  or  bishoji  of  the  presbyters  was  upon  a  raised 
scat  at  the  head  of  a  long  table,  with  a  row  of  elderly  men  to 
the  right  and  left.  A  few  of  these  were  of  Jewish  and  Egyptian, 
but  the  larger  proportion  of  Hellenic  origin, 

Hannah  passed  these  men  witli  a  gesture  of  reverence,  and 
as  the  door  closed  behind  her  the  bishop,  a  handsome  old  man, 
with  a  full  white  beard,  raised  his  mild  eyes,  and  after  gazing 
for  a  few  moments  upon  the  tips  of  his  raised  fingers,  addressed 
the  presbyter  who  had  admitted  several  to  the  body  of  believers 
within  the  joast  year,  setting  them  apart  by  baptism: 

"  The  greater  part  of  your  proposed  catechumens  depend 
truly  on  the  Eedeemer.  They  believe  in  Him  and  love  Him. 
]?at  are  they  striving  after  that  sanctification  obtained  through 
the  new  birth,  which  alone  gives  us  the  right  to  receive  them 
through  baptism  into  the  fold  of  the  Good  Shepherd?  We 
must  be  on  our  guard  against  scabby  shee})  which  mar  the 
whole  tlock!  Truly  there  have  been  such  in  these  latter  years 
who  have  gained  admittance  to  our  number,  and  yet  bring  dis- 
grace upon  the  Christian  name.  Shall  I  give  you  an  example? 
There  was  an  Eg3'ptian  in  Ehacotis;  few  seemed  to  strive  more 
earnestly  than  he  after  the  forgiveness  of  sin.  He  fasted  many 
days,  and  yet  so  soon  as  baptized,  broke  into  the  sliojo  of  a 
goldsmith.  He  was  sentenced  to  death,  and  before  his  death 
sent  for  me  to  visit  him,  where  he  told  me  tliat  in  earlier  )'ears 
his  soul  had  been  defiled  by  many  robberies  and  murders. 
Through  the  act  of  bajDtism,  the  immersion  in  water,  he  exjiect- 
ed  forgiveness,  and  not  through  repentance  and  the  new  birth 
into  a  pure  and  consecrated  life.  And  he  had  committed  the  new 
crime  in  dei^endence  upon  the  unwearied  grace  of  our  Saviour. 
Others,  educated  to  the  practice  of  ablutions  necessary  for 
initiation  into  the  heathen  mysteries,  looked  upon  baptism  as 
an  act  of  cleansing,  or  a  mystical,  soul -purifying  jirocess,  and 
as  such,  sought  it  eagerly.  Here  in  Alexandria,  the  number 
of  such  erring  ones  is  great;  and  where  can  a  superstitious  soul 
find  more  favorable  ground  than  in  this  abode  of  jiartial  cult- 
ure, and  superfluous  culture,  of  the  service  of  Serapis,  of  star 
worship,  of  mystic  unions,  of  visionary  fanatics,  of  demon  con- 
jurers, and  that  incredulity  so  closely  alUed  to  credulity.  So 
be  on  your  guard  against  allowing  baptism  to  those  who  seek 
it  as  a  protection  or  means  of  success.  Consider  that  tlie  same 
water  which  makes  the  graces  of  a  sanctified  heart  flourish, 
brings  death  to  the  sordid  soul.  You  have  oi^portunity  to 
speak,  Irenaeus. " 


THE  EMPEROR,  377 

''I  only  wish  to  say/'  remarked  the  so-called  younger 
Christian,  "that  I  have  also  met  lately  among  the  catechu- 
mens^ some  who  crowd  in  upon  us  from  the  lowest  motives. 
I  refer  to  the  idlers  who  have  received  our  charity.  Have  you 
noticed  the  cynic,  whose  hungry  brother  we  support?  The 
Deacon  Clemens  has  ascertained  that  he  is  the  only  son  of  a  fa- 
ther— " 

"  We  will  search  this  matter  more  closely  when  we  come  to 
speak  of  the  alms-giving,"  answered  the  bishop.  "  We  have  be- 
fore us  the  requests  of  several  women,  who  desire  to  have  their 
children  baptized.  We  can  not  decide  the  question  here,  for 
it  belongs  to  the  next  Synod.  It  is  too  serious  to  be  decided 
in  our  small  assembly.  As  for  me,  I  am  not  inclined  to  refuse 
this  request  of  the  mothers.  For  what  is  the  highest  aim  of 
the  Christian  life?  I  think  it  lies  in  becoming  more  perfectly 
conformable  to  the  example  of  the  Saviour.  And  He?  Was 
He  not  a  man  among  men,  a  youth  among  other  youth,  and  a 
child  among  children?  Has  not  His  existence  consecrated 
every  period  of  life,  and  esj)ecially  childhood?  He  commanded 
the  children  to  be  brought  to  Him,  and  promised  them  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven.  Why  then  should  we  exclude  and  deny 
them  baptism ?'' 

"  I  can  not  share  your  opinion,"'  answered  a  presbyter,  with 
high  forehead  and  deep  eyes.  "  We  ought  certainly  to  follow 
the  Saviour;  but  whoever  enters  that  patli,  must  do  it  from  free 
choice,  out  of  love  to  Him  and  after  consecration  of  his  soul. 
What  can  a  new  birth  signify  in  a  life  scarcely  begun?" 

"  Your  words  only  confirm  my  opinion,"  returned  the  bish- 
0)1,  "  that  this  matter  ought  to  come  before  a  larger  assembly. 
\Ve  will  close  here  our  discussion  of  the  point,  and  hasten  to 
that  of  caring  for  the  jDoor.     Call  in  the  women,  Justinius. " 

The  deaconesses  entering,  took  their  seats  at  the  lower  end 
of  the  table.  Paulina  occupied  the  place  directly  opjiosite  the 
Ijislio}).  She  had  heard  from  the  kind  nurse  of  Selene  of  the 
destitute  condition  of  the  family  of  Keraunus,  and  promised 
to  do  something  for  their  relief. 

First  the  deacons  reported  upon  their  own  activity  among 
the  poor.  After  them,  the  women  were  allowed  to  si:)eak. 
Paulina,  a  tall,  slender  woman,  with  black  hair  lightly  streaked 
with  gray,  drew  from  the  folds  of  her  soft  white  woolen  gar- 
ment, utterly  without  ornament,  a  tablet  which  she  laid  upon 
tlie  table  before  her,  and  slowly  lifting  her  eyes  to  the  assem- 
bly, said: 

'*  Tlie  widow  Hannah  has  a  sad  history  to  relate.  You  will 
kindly  allow  her  to  s2)eak, " 


278  THE  EMPEROR. 

raulina  seemed  to  feel  herself  the  hostess  among  lier 
brelhren.  Slic  bore  the  appearance  of  suffering,  for  her  lips 
were  contracted  by  an  expression  of  pain,  and  heavy  shadows 
lay  imder  her  eyes;  yet  the  tone  of  her  voice  \yas  severe  and 
decided,  and  her  glance  anything  but  soft  and  winning. 

After  her  the  story  of  Hannah  seemed  a  tender  song.  With 
feelings  as  though  they  were  her  own  daughters,  she  described 
the  two  sisters  so  different,  and  yet  each  so  deserving  of  sym- 
pathv.  With  touching  pathos  s'he  spoke  of  all  the  orphans 
left  to  such  grief  in  their  tender  years,  one  of  whom  was  a 
beautiful  blind  boy,  and  she  closed  with  the  words:  "  On  the 
second  daughter  of  the  overseer— she  is  sixteen  years  old,  and 
so  very  pretty  as  to  be  exposed  to  peculiar  temptations — hes 
now  the  whole  burden  of  providing  for  six  younger  brothers 
and  sisters.  Can  Ave  decline  the  hand  of  help?  No;  as  we 
love  our  Saviour,  we  must  not.  Do  you  agree  with  me?  Let 
us  not  delay  assistance.  The  second  daughter  of  the  deceased 
Keraunus  'is  now  in  this  house,  and  early  to-morrow  moniing 
the  children  must  be  removed  from  the  Lochias,  and  while  I 
am  speaking  to  you  they  are  left  mider  very  poor  guardian- 
ship."' 

The  words  of  Hannah  met  a  hearty  response,  the  presbyters 
and  deacons  resolving  to  recommend  their  case  to  the  assembly 
at  the  love-feast. 

As  they  had  still  so  many  points  to  discuss,  they  commis- 
sioned Paulina  and  Hannah  to  lay  the  matter  upon  the  hearts 
of  the  richer  members  of  the  community. 

The  poor  widow  first  led  her  wealthy  hostess  into  the  room 
where  Arsinoe  waited  with  growing  impatience.  She  looked 
paler  than  usual,  but  in  spite  of  her  tear-stained  and  downcast 
eyes,  was  so  strikingly  beautiful  as  to  move  the  heart  of  Pau- 
lina. 

She  had  been  the  mother  of  two  children,  one  of  whom  had 
died  in  the  bloom  of  girlhood,  and  no  hour  passed  when  Pau- 
lina did  not  think  of  her. 

For  her  sake  she  had  been  baptized,  and  devoted  herself  to 
a  series  of  sacrifices.  She  sought  with  all  her  energy  to  be  a 
good  Christian,  believing  that  the  self-denial  practiced  in  tak- 
ing voluntarily  upon  herself,  while  so  feeble,  the  heavy  cross  of 
renouncing  the  quiet  life  she  loved,  and  making  her  country 
home  a  scene  of  confusion,  would  insure  her  owji  entrance  into 
that  heaven  where  she  hoped  to  find  again  her  innocent 
daughter. 

Arsinoe  reminded  her  of  Helena,  whose  image— though  in 


THE  EMPEROR.  279 

truth  she  had  been  much  less  beautiful  than  the  overseer's 
daughter — had  become  glorified  in  the  faithful  mother-heart. 

Since  the  dej^arture  of  her  son,  she  had  often  thought  of 
adopting  some  young  person,  whom  she  might  attach  to  her- 
self, and  educate  for  an  offering  to  the  Lord. 

Her  daughter  had  died  a  heathen,  and  nothing  distressed 
Paulina  so  much  as  the  loss  of  her  soul,  aiid  that  she  could  not 
carry  her  own  struggles  and  efforts  to  the  other  side  of  the 
grave. 

JSTo  sacrifice  seemed  too  great  to  purchase  future  blessedness 
for  her  child,  and  when  she  stood  before  Arsinoe,  touched  with 
admiration  for  her  beauty,  she  was  seized  by  a  thought  that  in- 
stantly ripened  into  determination.  She  would  win  this  lovely 
creature  for  the  Saviour,  and  with  incessant  prayer  implore 
Him  to  save  her  child  in  exchange  for  the  soul  of  Arsinoe. 
And  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  entered  into  a  covenant  with 
the  Eedeemer,  when,  fully  resolved  upon  her  course,  she 
stepped  up  to  the  girl,  asking: 

"Are  you  entirely  alone,  and  without  other  relatives  than 
your  brothers  and  sisters?" 

Arsinoe  bowed  her  head  affirmatively,  but  Paulina  con- 
tinued : 

"  And  do  you  bear  this  loss  with  resignation?" 

"  What  is  resignation?"  asked  the  girl,  timidly. 

Hannah  laid  her  hand  upon  the  arm  of  the  widow,  whisper- 
ing: 

"  She  is  a  heathen!" 

"  I  know  that,"  answered  Paulina,  shortly,  adding  kindly 
but  decidedly.  "  Through  this  death  of  your  father  you  have 
lost  both  parents  and  protection.  In  my  house  you  can  have 
a  new  home,  and,  in  exchange,  I  only  ask  your  love." 

Arsinoe  looked  up  in  astonishment  at  the  proud  Avoman. 
She  felt  no  attraction  toward  her,  and  was  unconscious  that 
the  only  gift  asked  was  one  that  could  not  be  forced  even  from 
the  best  intentions  and  the  most  loving  nature. 

Paulina  did  not  wait  her  aiiswer,  but  motioned  Hannah  to 
follow  her  to  the  love-feast  of  the  community. 

Quarter  of  an  hour  later,  both  women  returned.  The  chil- 
dren of  Keraunus  had  found  protection.  Two  or  three  Chris- 
tian families  would  gladly  receive  them.  Several  kind-hearted 
women  had  asked  for  the  blind  boy  in  vain,  for  Hannah 
claimed  the  right  to  take  him  at  first  into  her  own  house. 
She  knew  how  Selene  clung  to  the  child,  and  hoped  his  pres- 
ence might  be  useful  to  the  chilled  and  depressed  heart  of  lier 
patient.      Arsinoe  did  not  resist  the   arrangements  of    the 


280  THE  EMPEROR. 

woman.  She  was  really  grateful,  for  she  felt  again  firm 
ground  beneath  her  feet,  though  she  jierceived  at  once  that  it 
would  be  full  of  sharj)  stones.  The  thought  of  separating 
from  her  brothers  and  sisters  was  cruel  torture,  and  did  not 
leave  her  for  a  moment  while  returning  with  Hannah  to  the 
Lochias. 

On  the  next  morning  her  good  friend  came  again  and  con- 
ducted the  httle  flock  to  the  city  house  of  Paulina.  All  the 
possessions  of  Keraunus  were  divided  among  his  creditors. 
Only  the  chest  containing  the  papers  followed  the  girl  to  her 
new  home. 

The  hour  in  which  the  little  group  of  children  were  scat- 
tered, talcing  one  here,  another  there,  was  the  most  painful 
Arsinoe  had  thus  far  experienced,  or  in  later  years  could  live 
to  see. 


CHAPTER  Xn. 

Within  the  inclosure  of  the  Cfesareum,  the  present  resi- 
dence of  the  empress,  was  a  lovely  garden.  Balbilla  was  very 
fond  of  it,  and  since  the  sun  on  tins  twenty-ninth  day  of  De- 
cember was  especially  clear,  the  sky  and  its  unframed  mirror, 
the  sea,  shone  in  such  indescribable  beauty,  and  the  fragrance 
of  many  flowering  shrubs  had  stolen  through  her  window  as  an 
invitation  to  leave  the  house,  she  had  sought  a  sunny  spot 
under  the  light  shadow  of  an  acacia.  This  seat  M'as  separated 
by  shrubbery  from  the  most  frequented  jjaths.  Promenaders 
not  seeking  Balbilla  would  not  notice  her;  yet,  through  a  gap 
in  the  foliage,  she  was  able  to  overlook  a  path  strewn  Avitli 
mussel  shells.  But  to-day  the  J'oung  poetess  M'as  not  inclined 
to  curiosity.  Instead  of  watching  the  bright-colored  birds 
among  the  foliage,  or  looking  into  the  clear  air,  or  toward  the 
sea,  her  eye  was  fastened  on  a  roll  of  yellow  papyrus,  and  she 
was  busied  in  imi^ressing  some  very  dry  things  upon  her 
memory. 

She  had  undertaken  to  redeem  a  promise  given  to  learn  to 
read,  write,  and  rhyme  in  the  yEolian  dialect  of  the  Greek 
language.  As  her  teacher,  she  had  chosen  the  famous  gram- 
marian, Apollonius,  surnamed  "Dyscolos.''  And  the  work 
she  was  striving  to  master  was  from  the  famous  library  of  the 
Temi)le  of  Serapis,  which,  since  the  siege  of  Julius  Ctesar,  when 
the  great  library  of  the  museum  was  burned,  far  exceeded  the 
other  in  completeness. 

Whoever  looked  upon  Balbilla  would  not  imagine  her  to  be 
studying.    There  was  no  mark  of  eilort  in  her  eye  or  upon  her 


THE   EMPEROR.  281 

forehead;  and  yet  she  read  attentively,  hne  after  Ihie,  but  not 
as  one  cHmbs  a  mountam,  in  the  sweat  of  his  brow;  rather  as 
the  pleasure  promenader  in  the  main  street  of  a  great  city 
notices  all  the  new  and  striking  objects. 

Whenever  she  came  upon  any  unfamiliar  form  of  words  she 
experienced  such  delight  as  caused  her  to  clap  her  hands,  and 
break  into  a  low  laugh. 

Her  profound  teacher  had  never  before  met  such  a  joyous 
pupil,  and  it  vexed  him,  to  whom  study  was  such  an  earnest 
pursuit.  But  she  seemed  to  make  of  this,  as  of  all  other 
things,  only  a  sjDort,  and  it  lowered  her  in  his  eyes.  After  sit- 
ting an  hour  upon  the  bench,  and  studying  after  her  own 
fashion,  she  rolled  the  papyrus  together  and  rose  for  a  little 
respite.  Sure  of  being  unobserved,  she  stretched  her  limb's 
with  a  feeling  of  satisfaction  in  the  work  accomplished,  and 
then  peeped  through  the  gap  in  the  shrubbery  to  see  what 
booted  man  was  stalking  up  and  down  the  path.  It  seemed 
to  be  the  pretor,  and  yet  it  was  not  he.  Tliis  Verus,  at  least, 
met  her  gaze  for  the  first  time.  Where  was  the  smile  that  was 
wont  to  sparkle,  hke  a  diamond  flash,  in  his  eye,  and  play 
about  his  saucy  lip.  Where  was  the  unruffled  cheerfulness  of 
his  brow,  the  challenging  audacity  of  his  handsome  figure? 

With  a  gloomy  sparkle  in  his  eye,  with  wrinkled  brow  and 
drooj^ing  head,  he  went  slowly  up  and  down,  and  still  there 
was  no  outward  grief  to  burden  him.  Just  as  he  passed  by 
Balbilla  he  had  snapped  his  fingers  in  the  air  as  if  to  say:  "  Let 
come  what  will!  I  am  alive  to-day  and  can  laugh  the  future 
in  the  face!^' 

But  this  flaring-up  of  the  old  reckless  frivolity  held  no 
longer  than  until  the  snajoping  fingers  had  separated.  When 
he  passed  her  again,  he  looked,  if  possible,  gloomier  than  be- 
fore. Something  very  mijoleasant  must  have  destroyed  the 
good  humor  of  her  friend's  frivolous  husband. 

That  gave  the  poetess  sorrow,  for  though  she  suffered  each 
day  from  the  wanton  audacity  of  the  pretor,  she  forgave  it  on 
account  of  the  pleasant  manner  in  which  he  covered  his  im- 
pertinence. 

Balbilla  wished  to  see  him  joyous  once  more,  so  she  stepped 
out  of  her  hiding-place.  So  soon  as  she  ap^^eared,  his  whole 
expression  changed,  and  cheerily  as  ever  he  cried  to  her:    ■ 

"  Welcome,  fairest  of  the  fair!" 

She  pretended  not  to  recognize  him,  and  said  as  she  passed 
by,  drop2)ing  her  head : 

''  I  greet  thee,  Timon. " 

"  Timon?''  he  cried,  seizins  her  hand. 


SS2  THE  EMrP.ROK. 

"  Ah,  it  is  you,  Vcrns,"  slie  answered,  feigning  surprise. 
"  I  tliouglit  the  7Vthenian  man-hater  had  left  Hades  to  j^rome- 
nade  our  garden." 

"  You  saw  right,"  answered  the  prctor;  "  but  as  the  trees 
dance  when  Orpheus  sings,  and  the  muse  makes  Bacchanals  of 
the  dull,  lifeless  stones,' so,  when  Balbilla  appears,  Timon  is 
instantly  changed  with  the  fortunate  Verus." 

"  This  wonder  should  not  surprise  me,"  said  the  girl,  laugh- 
ing. "But  may  one  learn  what  si^irit  of  darkness  j^ractices 
such  sudden  power  of  transformation  as  to  change  the  favored 
husband  of  the  fair  Lucilla  into  a  Timon?" 

"  I  shall  be  very  careful  not  to  expose  the  fiend,  else  might 
the  cheerful  Muse  Balbilla  easily  become  the  dark  Hecate. 
]iesides,  the  mischievous  demon  is  very  near,  and  liides  within 
this  little  roll." 

"  A  document  of  the  emperor?" 

"  Oh,  no,  only  the  letter  of  a  Jew." 

"  Probably  the  father  of  some  fair  daughter?" 

'"'  The  jDoorest  guess  possible," 

"  You  excite  my  curiosity." 

"  Mine  has  been  satisfied  through  this  roll.  Horace  was 
wise  in  saying  one  ought  not  to  fret  himself  over  future 
things." 

"  Is  it  an  oracle?" 

'■'  At  least  something  of  that  sort." 

"  And  does  that  destroy  for  you  this  rare  morning?  Have 
you  ever  seen  me  sad?  And  yet  my  future  is  threatened  by 
"an  oracle,  a  terrible  decree — " 

^  The  destiny  of  a  man  is  quite  different  from  that  of  a 
woman.  ^' 

'•'  Would  you  like  to  hear  what  was  foretold  me?" 

"  What  a  question." 

"  Then  listen.  I  received  it  from  no  less  a  person  than  the 
JX'lphian  Pythia: 

' '  '  What  to  thee  dearest  and  highest  was,  that  thou  wilt  lose, 
And  from  Olympian  heights  descend  to  earth  beneath.'  " 

"Is  that  all?" 

"  No,  there  follow  two  consolatory  lines." 

"  How  do  they  run?" 

"  '  But  under  the  flying  dust  a  careful  look  will  discover 

Solid  building  of  stone,  with  marble  and  rocky  foundation.'  " 

"  And  have  you  any  disposition  to  complain  of  this  oracle?" 
"  Is  it  very  (;harming  to  wtide  in  the  dust?     One  has  enough 


THE   EMPEROR.  283 

of  that  here  in  Egypt.  And  ought  I  perhaps  to  rejoice  in  the 
prospect  of  hitting  my  foot  against  the  stones?" 

"  What  is  the  interpretation?" 

"  Only  stupid  stuff." 

"  You  have  not  yet  found  the  true  one;  but  I  perceive  the 
meaning  of  the  oracle. " 

"  You?" 

"  Yes,  I.  The  strict  Balbilla  will  at  last  descend  from  the 
high  Olympus  of  her  coyness,  and  no  longer  despise  the  firm 
ground — the  worship  of  her  faithful  Verus. " 

"  Oh,  this  ground,  this  rocky  foundation!"  laughed  the 
girl.  "  It  seems  to  me  more  rational  to  promenade  the  sur- 
face of  the  sea  yonder. " 

"Only  try  it." 

"It  is  ramecessary.  Lucilla  has  made  the  experiment  for 
me.  Your  interpretation  is  poor.  The  emperor  gave  me  a 
better." 

"  What  was  that?" 

"  That  I  should  give  up  writing  poetry,  and  apply  myself  to 
scientific  study.     He  advised  astronomy." 

"  The  knowledge  of  the  stars,"  said  Verus,  becoming  more 
earnest.     "  Farewell,  fairest,  I  must  go  to  the  emperor." 

"  We  were  with  him  yesterday,  ujion  the  Lochias.  How  all 
has  changed  there!  The  gate-keeper's  pretty  little  house  has 
been  taken  away.  Nothing  more  is  to  be  seen  of  the  jolly 
crowd  of  architects  and  artists,  and  the  bustling  work-rooms 
are  now  only  ordinary  halls.  The  screen  in  the  Hall  of  the 
Muses  has  been  taken  down.  My  bust,  began  eight  days  ago, 
has  disappeared  with  the  blustering  young  fellow  who  took  the 
field  so  vigorously  against  my  curls  that  I  was  on  the  point  of 
sacrificing  them — " 

"  Without  them  you  would  no  more  be  Balbilla,"  cried 
Yerus,  with  zeal.  "The  artist  may  reject  what  is  not  of  per- 
manent beauty,  but  we  prefer  those  adornments  in  which  the 
other  children  of  our  race  find  pleasure.  The  sculptor  may 
array  a  goddess  after  the  style  of  more  serious  days  and  the 
laws  of  his  art,  but  mortal  women  will  follow  the  dictates  of 
fashion  if  they  are  clever.  But  otherwise  I  am  heartily  sorry 
for  the  fresh,  skillful  fellow.  He  insulted  the  emperor,  was 
driven  out  of  the  palace,  and  can  not  be  found." 

"  Oh,"  cried  Balbilla,  "  the  poor,  magnificent  fellow!  And 
my  bust!  we  must  hunt  him  up.  When  an  opportunity  offers, 
I  shall  beg  the  emperor — " 

"  Hadrian  will  hear  nothing  of  him.    Pollux  irritated  him.'' 

"  How  did  you  learn  this?" 


284  THE  EMPEROR. 

"  From  Antinous." 

"  AVe  saw  him  yesterday,  also/'  exclaimed  Balbilla,  with 
animation.  "  If  ever  a  human  being  was  permitted  to  walk  in 
the  figure  of  a  god  among  mortals,  it  is  he!'' 

"  You  are  extravagant!" 

"  I  think  no  one  could  look  upon  him  with  indifference. 
He  is  a  gentle  dreamer,  and  the  expression  of  suffering  we 
noticed  in  his  face  yesterday  is  doubtless  only  the  mute  pain 
of  a  perfect  being  who  has  lost  the  j^leasure  of  gro\\i;h  and 
maturity  in  the  embodiment  of  the  ideals  of  his  own  species. " 

The  jDoetess  uttered  these  words  with  an  expression  of  rapt- 
ure, as  if  the  figure  of  a  god  stood  before  her  eyes. 

Verus  listened,  laughing,  and  interrupted  her,  saying,  with 
a  threatening  motion: 

"  Poetess,  jihilosopher,  most  charming  young  woman,  be- 
ware of  falling  down  from  Olymi^us  to  the  level  of  this  l)oy. 
AVhen  fancy  and  visionary  dreaming  meet,  they  make  a  ^^air 
which  floats  in  the  clouds,  and  never  touch  that  firm  ground 
of  which  your  oracle  speaks,  or  even  susjaect  its  existence 
through  the  fog." 

"  Foolishness!"  cried  Balbilla,  indignantly.  "  To  fall  in 
love  with  a  statue  it  must  have  been  animated  with  spu'it  and 
fire  by  Prometheus." 

"Sometimes,  indeed,"  answered  the  pretor,  "Eros  steps 
into  the  place  of  that  unfortunate  friend  of  the  gods. " 

"  The  true  Eros,  or  the  '  false  '?"  asked  Balbilla,  irritated. 

"  Certainly  not  the  '  false,'  "  returned  Verus.  "  This  time 
he  only  plays  the  part  of  friendly  Monitor,  and  acts  for  the 
architect  Pontius,  of  whom  your  worthy  matron  is  afraid. 
They  say  you  carried  on  as  earnest  a  conversation  during  the 
mirthful  confusion  of  the  Dionysian  feast  as  two  gray  philoso- 
jjhers  walking  the  Stoa  among  "their  listening  disciples." 

"  With  sensible  men  one  talks  sensibly. " 

"  And  gayly  with  those  who  are  not.  How  I  rejoice  to  be 
counted  among  the  witless!  Farewell,  in  the  hoi^e  of  another 
meeting,  fair  Balbilla,"  said  the  j^retor,  as  he  deijartod, 
mounting  his  chariot,  and  going  toward  the  Lochias.  His 
charioteer  held  the  reins.  He  himself  gazed  thoughtfully  at 
the  roll  in  liis  hand.  This  contained  the  result  of  the  astro- 
logical calculations  of  Simeon  Ben  Jochai,  and  was  well  adai)t- 
ed  to  disturb  the  good  nature  of  the  most  frivolous  man.  If 
the  emperor,  in  the  night  preceding  the  cradle-feast  of  the 
pretor,  should  observe  the  position  of  the  stars  M'ith  reference 
to  the  latter,  he  would  find  that  to  the  end  of  the  third  hour 
after  midnight  all  tlie  ])lanets  foretold  a  hap2)y  lot,  prosperity 


THE   EMPEEOR.  285 

and  distinction.  But  at  the  entrance  of  the  third  hour  Beii 
Jochai  asserted  disaster  and  death  would  possess  the  house  of 
his  prosperity.  In  the  fourth  his  star  would  disappear,  and 
whatever  else  might  appear  during  the  night  would  have  noth- 
ing to  do  with  him  or  his  destiny.  The  emperor^s  star  would 
overcome  his  own.  Verus  understood  little  of  the  tabulated 
process,  but  that  little  confirmed  the  written  exposition.  The 
horses  of  the  j)retor  were  hastening  forward,  while  he  was  con- 
sidering what  remained  possible  for  him  to  do,  if  he  would  not 
relinquish  the  highest  goal  of  ambition.  If  the  calculation  of 
Ben  Jochai  should  prove  correct — of  which  he  had  no  doubt — 
his  hoj)e  of  the  adoption  must  be  baseless  in  spite  of  Sabina's 
influence.  How  could  Hadrian  choose  for  his  successor  a  man 
appointed  to  die  before  himself?  How  coidd  he,  Verus,  expect 
the  emj)eror  to  connect  his  fortunate  star  with  that  of  one 
destined  for  an  earlier  death?  These  thoughts  and  questions 
brought  him  no  light,  and  still  he  could  not  avoid  them,  when 
suddenly  his  charioteer  stopj)ed  the  horses  at  the  outside  edge 
of  the  carriage-dike,  to  leave  the  way  free  for  a  procession  of 
Egyptian  jjriests  on  thei^-  way  to  the  Lochias.  The  vigorous 
grip  with  which  his  servant  reined  in  the  fiery  steeds  excited 
his  admiration  and  suggested  the  thought  of  thrusting  his  own 
■hand  between  the  sjjokes  of  the  wheel  of  destiny. 

When  the  j)i'iestly  delegation  no  longer  detained  him  he 
commanded  his  charioteer  to  drive  slowly,  that  he  might  have 
time  for  reflection. 

"To  the  third  hour  after  midnight,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"  all  is  of  good  augury,  toward  the  fourth  there  will  apjoear 
some  signs  imfavorable  to  me.  It  is  only  natural  that  the 
shee23  will  j^lay  about  the  dead  lion,  and  even  the  ass  dares  in- 
sult him  with  a  kick,  so  long  as  he  is  sick.  In  that  short  space 
between  the  third  and  fourth  hours,  all  the  disastrous  signs 
crowd  together.  They  would  appear;  but '' — and  with  tliis 
"  but  "  came  a  sudden  illumination  over  the  pretor — "  need 
the  emperor  see  them?" 

The  heart  of  the  troubled  man  beat  faster,  his  brain  worked 
more  vigorously,  and  he  commanded  his  charioteer  to  make  a 
long  circuit,  that  he  might  gain  time  for  the  thoughts  within 
to  spring  up,  to  grow,  and  to  ripen.    Verus  was  no  intriguer. 

Witli  light  and  careless  step  he  entered  everywhere  througli 
the  main  ^jortal  and  des23ised  the  back  gate.  Oidy  for  this 
greatest  aim  of  life  was  he  willing  to  relinquish  his  tastes,  his 
comfort,  his  pride,  and  scr^■o  himself  without  regard  to  the 
means  emijloyed.  For  this  end  he  had  already  done  some 
things  he  regretted — and  he  who  steals  one  sheep  from  a  fold. 


?8G  TFE  E5irT;non. 

is  sure  to  ho  followed  by  others  also.  Upon  the  first  unworthy 
action  of  a  man  crowds  easily  another,  and  still  another. 

I'hat  which  Verus  now  set  himself  to  do  he  looked  upon  as 
a  simi)le  act  of  self-defense.  What  matter  if  he  should  pre- 
vent the  emperor  from  one  idle  hour  of  star-gazing! 

There  were  only  two  ])ersous  M'ho  could  assist  him  in  this 
matter:  Antinous  and  the  slave  Mastor. 

He  thought  first  of  the  latter;  but  the  Jazygean  was  true  to 
his  master,  and  would  scarcely  allow  himself  to  be  bribed. 
Ajid  then!  Fy  upon  it!  He  could  not  make  common  cause 
with  a  slave!  He  had  even  less  reason  to  hope  for  the  assist- 
ance of  Antinous. 

Sabina  hated  this  favorite  of  her  husband,  and  on  her  ac- 
count Verus  had  never  met  the  Bithynian  with  special  friend- 
liness. He  fancied  also  that  the  silent,  dreamy  fellow  kept 
out  of  his  way.  Only  through  intimidation  might  he  perhaps 
put  him  to  service.  At  any  rate,  the  next  thing  to  be  done 
was  to  visit  the  Lochias  with  open  eyes. 

Should  he  find  the  emperor  in  good  humor,  he  might  per- 
haps induce  him  to  appear  at  a  banquet  he  would  give  in  the 
latter  part  of  the  night,  in  celebration  of  his  birthday,  and 
which  would  furnish  much  that  was  agreeable  both  to  see  and 
to  hear. 

A  thousand  favorable  and  helpful  accidents  might  also  arise. 

Besides,  the  rabbi  had  augured  for  the  next  year  undimmed 
prosperity.  Gay  and  careless,  as  if  the  future  lay  sunny  and 
unclouded  before  him,  he  looked  about  as  he  descended  from 
the  chariot  into  the  newly  paved  court,  and  was  conducted  into 
the  anteroom  of  the  emjDcror.  Hadrian  was  no  longer  on  the 
Lochias  as  an  architect  from  Rome,  but  resided  as  monarch  of 
the  world  in  the  rejuvenated  palace.  He  had  shown  himself 
to  the  Alexandrians,  and  been  received  with  jubilation  and  un- 
precedented marks  of  respect. 

The  joy  over  this  imperial  visit  was  everywhere  manifest, 
and  sometimes  found  exiaression  in  extravagant  forms. 

The  council  even  resolved  to  change  the  name  of  December 
to  "  Hadrian  us,"  in  perpetual  commemoration  of  the  month 
when  his  arrival  had  honored  their  city. 

The  em2)eror  was  obliged  to  receive  de})utation  after  deputa- 
tion, and  to  hold  repeated  audience.  On  the  next  morning 
the  dramatic  rei^resentations,  the  processions  and  games  were 
to  begin,  which  pj-omised  to  occu])y  many  days,  or,  as  Hadrian 
expressed  it,  threatened  to  steal  from  him  hundreds  of  good 
hours. 

Yet  the  monarch  found  time  to  discharge  all  public  business. 


THE    EMPEROE.  287 

and  iii  the  uiglit  to  question  the  stars  as  to  what  destiny  await- 
ed himself  and  all  parts  of  his  empire  within  the  coming  year. 

The  palace  on  the  Lochias  now  presented  an  entirely  differ- 
ent aspect. 

In  place  of  the  cheery  little  house  at  the  gate,  stood  now  a 
great  tent  covered  with  rich  purple  stuff,  and  occupied  by  the 
imperial  body-guard.  Opposite  to  this  another  has  been  erect- 
ed, for  the  use  of  lictors  and  messengers.  The  stables  were 
also  filled.  Hadrian's  favorite  horse,  the  noble  stallion  Borys- 
thenes,  already  too  long  confined,  stamped  impatiently  upon 
the  ground  of  a  space  appropriated  to  himself,  near  which,  in 
hastily  erected  inclosures  and  kennels,  were  his  setters,  boar- 
hounds,  and  harriers. 

Within  the  first  court  soldiers  were  quartered.  Beside  the 
walls  squatted  Egyptian,  Greek,  and  Jewish  men  and  women 
who  wished  to  present  petitions.  Chariots  were  driven  in  and 
out;  sedan-chairs  and  litters  waited;  chamberlains  and  other 
officers  of  the  court  hastened  hither  and  thither.  The  ante- 
chamber was  filled  with  respectable  citizens  hoping  to  be  re- 
ceived by  the  emperor.  Slaves,  who  offered  refreshment  to 
those  waiting,  or  stood  lazily  about,  failed  at  no  point;  and 
officers,  with  rolls  of  documents  under  their  arms,  passed  from 
one  set  of  aj)artments  to  another,  or  left  the  palace  to  execute 
the  orders  of  their  superiors. 

The  Hall  of  the  Muses  had  been  transformed  into  a  banquet- 
ing-room. 

Papias,  now  on  his  way  to  Italy  with  a  commission  from  the 
emperor,  had  replaced  the  broken  shoulder  of  the  Urania. 
Between  the  statues  stood  chairs  and  couches,  and  beneath  a 
canojDy  in  the  back  part  of  the  wide  space  had  been  erected  a 
throne  where  Hadrian  sat  when  holding  audience.  On  such 
occasions  he  always  wore  the  purple,  but  in  his  private  room, 
which  remained  the  same  as  at  first,  he  laid  aside  the  mantle 
and  was  as  simply  dressed  as  the  architect,  Claudius  Venator. 

In  the  dwelling  of  the  late  Keraunus  there  now  resided  a 
childless  and  unmarried  Egyptian,  a  severe  and  circumspect 
man,  who  had  rendered  faithful  service  as  a  house-steward  to 
the  Prefect  Titianus. 

The  main  room  of  the  former  family  looked  dreary  and  un- 
inhabitable. The  Mosaic  paintings  which  had  been  the  inno- 
cent cause  of  Keraunus's  death  was  already  on  its  way  to 
Rome,  and  the  new  overseer  had  not  thought  it  worth  while  to 
fill  or  even  cover  with  a  mat  the  ugly,  broken,  and  dusty  space 
left  by  its  removal.  The  only  cheerful  sound  now  heard  in  the 
deserted  house  was  the  twitter  of  the  birds  that  still  came  every 


288  THE   EMPEROR. 

morning  and  evening  to  tlie  balcony  where  Arsinoc  and  tlio 
children  had  never  failed  to  scatter  crimibrf  for  them. 

Whatever  of  cheer  and  attraction  had  been  visible  in  the  pal- 
ace disa])i)eared  after  the  visit  of  Sabina;  .even  Hadrian  was  no 
longer  the  same  jierson  as  a  few  days  before. 

Imperial  and  unapproachable  in  i^ublic,  he  was  serious, 
gloomy,  and  unsocial  with  those  admitted  to  his  private  apart- 
ments. 

The  oracle,  the  stars,  and  other  jDrognostics  foretold  with 
an  assurance  not  to  be  ignored  some  heavy  disaster  within  the 
coming  3'ear.  His  wife,  whose  bitter  disposition  reiDelled  him 
even  more  in  Alexandria — where  all  was  animated  and  pleas- 
ing— than  it  had  in  Eome,  had  coolly  demanded  that  he  should 
no  longer  postjDone  the  adoption  of  Verus. 

He  was  troubled  and  discontented.  A  desert  ^dthout  bounds 
seemed  to  yawn  before  him  when  he  turned  his  eye  inward, 
while  the  future  of  his  outward  life  jjromised  only  a  series  of 
frivolous  occupations  which  could  not  fail  to  interfere  with  his 
incessant  desire  for  active  or  intellectual  effort.  Even  his 
handsome  favorite,  Antinous,  whose  vegetative  life,  untouched 
by  either  the  trouble  or  the  2^1easure  of  ordinary  mortals,  and 
whose  society  had  been  a  solace  and  refreshment  to  his  spirit, 
had  undergone  a  change. 

The  youth  appeared  often  perplexed,  restless,  and  disturbed. 
Foreign  influences  seemed  to  have  affected  him,  for  he  was  no 
longer  contented  to  hang  as  a  shadow  upon  the  person  of  his 
master.  He  sought  freedom,  and  had  several  times  slipped 
away  to  the  city,  presumably  for  the  pleasures  ordinarily 
sought  by  those  of  his  own  age,  and  which  he  had  formerly 
avoided. 

The  cheerful  and  obliging  Mastor  was  also  different. 

Only  the  Molossian  remained  unchanged  in  obedient  loyalty. 
And  Hadrian  himself?  As  he  had  been  ten  years  before,  so 
was  he  to-day,  exliibiting  different  character  with  each  passing 
day  and  hour. 


CHAPTER  Xni. 

"When  Verus  entered  the  palace,  Hadrian  had  returned 
thither  from  the  city  only  a  few  moments  before.  The  2:)retor 
was  led  directly  through  the  reception-room  to  his  inner  ai)art- 
ment,  and  had  not  long  to  wait,  for  Hadrian  wished  to  speak 
with  him  immediately.  He  was  in  such  a  bad  mood  that 
Verus  dared  not  invite  him  to  attend  the  banquet.  The  em- 
peror walked  restlessly  up  and-  down  the  room,  wliile  Verus 


THE  emp:eror.  289 

answered  his  questions  respecting  the  last  business  before  tlie 
Senate  in  Rome.  Sometimes  he  stopped,  and  looked  into  the 
next  room.  As  Verus  ended  his  report,  Argus  gave  a  howl  of. 
joy,  and  immediately  Antinous  aj^peared.  Verus  retreated  at 
once  to  the  broad  window,  and  pretended  to  be  examinmg  the 
harbor. 

"  Where  have  you  been?''  asked  the  emperor,  without  no- 
ticing the  presence  of  the  pretor. 

"  A  little  way  into  the  city,"  was  the  answer  of  the  Bithyn- 
ian. 

"  You  know  that  I  do  not  like  to  find  you  absent  on  my  re- 
turn home." 

"  I  supposed  you  would  stay  out  longer." 

"  Try  to  arrange  it  so  that  I  shall  find  you  at  any  time.  I 
am  sure  you  do  not  like  to  see  me  discontented." 

"No,  sire/' answered  the  favorite,  raising  his  hands,  and 
with  an  imploring  look  at  his  master. 

"  Let  it  pass  now.  I  have  something  else  to  say.  How 
came  this  little  vial  into  the  possession  of  Hiram,  the  relic 
dealer?" 

And  the  emperor  held  up  before  his  eyes  the  little  vessel  of 
vasa  murrhina  which  the  youth  had  given  to  Arsinoe. 

Antinous  turned  pale,  and  stammered  in  great  embarrass- 
ment: 

"  It  is  incomprehensible —    I  can  not  recall — " 

"  Then  I  will  help  your  memory,"  said  the  emperor,  with 
severity.  "  The  Phoenician  seemed  a  more  honest  man  than 
Gabinius.  In  his  collection,  which  I  have  just  visited,  I  found 
this  gem,  that  Plotina — do  you  hear,  boy? — that  Trajan's  wife, 
Plotina,  the  never-forgotten  friend  of  my  heart,  gave  me  years 
ago.  It  was  among  my  choicest  treasures,  and  yet  not  too 
precious  for  your  last  birthday  gift. " 

"  Oh,  sire,  my  dear  sire!"  cried  Antinous,  faintly,  with  be- 
seeching eyes  and  hands. 

"  Now  I  ask  you,"  went  on  Hadrian,  sternly,  and  without 
being  softened  by  the  imi^loring  look  of  his  favorite,  ''  how 
came  this  vessel  into  the  iDossession  of  the  daughter  of  Kerau- 
nus,  as  Hiram  just  now  asserted?" 

Antinous  sought  in  vain  for  words,  but  Hadrian  helped  him 
by  asking  in  a  more  excited  tone : 

"  Did  the  girl  steal  it  from  you?     Out  with  the  truth!" 

"  No,  no,"  answered  the  Bithynian,  quickly  and  resolutely. 
"  Certainly  not.  I  shall  remember —  Yes — but  wait  a  mo- 
ment— ]iow  I  have  it.  You  know  certainly  that  it  contained 
the  excellent  balsam,  and  when  the  Molossian  threw  Selene — 


290  THE   EMPEROR. 

Selene  is  the  name  of  Keraunus's  daughter— down  the  stairs, 
and  she  lay  wounded  on  the  ground,  I  brought  the  vial  and 
•  gave  her  the  balsam/' 

*'  With  the  vessel?"  asked  the  emperor,  looking  darkly  at 
Anthious. 

"  Yes,  sire.     I  had  no  other/' 

**  And  she  kept  it,  in  order  to  sell  it  at  once.-" 

"  You  know  that  her  father — " 

"A  thievish  set!"  exclaimed  Hadrian,  grinding  his  teeth. 
"  Do  you  know  what  has  become  of  the  girl?" 

"  Ah,  sire!"  cried  Antinous,  trembling  with  anxiety, 

"  I  shall  let  the  lictors  arrest  her,"  declared  the  incensed 
monarch. 

"  No,"  cried  the  youth,  with  decision;  "  you  will  certainly 
not  do  that. " 

"  Not  do  it?    You  will  find  that  I  shall. " 

"  No,  certainly  not,  for  when  you  learn  that  Keraunus's 
daughter  Selene  has — " 

"  Well,  what?" 

"  She  threw  herself  in  despair  into  the  water — yes,  into  the 
water,  at  night,  into  the  sea." 

"Oh,"  cried  Hadrian,  more  mildly,  "that  certainly  alters 
the  case.  The  lictors  would  hunt  in  vain  for  shadows,  and  the 
girl  has  suffered  the  severest  of  all  punishments.  But  you? 
What  shall  I  say  of  your  conduct?  You  knew  how  dearly  I 
prized  it,  and  still  let  it  go  into  such  hands!" 

"But  it  contained  the  medicine,"  stammered  the  youth. 
"  Besides,  how  could  I  think — " 

The  emperor  interrupted  his  favorite,  saying,  while  he  beat 
his  own  forehead:  "  Yes,  the  thinking;  unfortunately  we  have 
long  ago  found  out  that  thinking  is  not  your  vocation!  This 
little  vessel  has  already  cost  me  quite  a  handsome  sum;  but 
since  it  was  yours,  I  return  it.  Only  I  desire  that  in  future 
you  should  be  more  careful.  Some  time  I  shall  ask  for  it.  In 
the  name  of  all  the  gods,  boy,  how  you  look!  Am  I  so  terrible 
that  a  question  out  of  my  mouth  is  enough  to  drive  all  the 
blood  from  your  cheeks?  Truly,  if  the  thing  had  not  come 
from  Plotina,  I  should  have  left  it  with  the  Phronician,  and 
made  no  such  ado  over  it." 

Antinous  approached  the  emperor,  seeking  to  kiss  his  hand; 
but  he  pressed  his  forehead  with  fatherly  tenderness,  saying: 

"  Silly  boy!  If  you  want  to  have  me  satisfied  Avith  you,  be 
again  as  you  were  before  we  came  to  Alexandria.  Leave  it  to 
others  to  prepare  annoyances  for  me.  The  gods  created  you 
for  my  delight." 


THE  EMPEROR.  291 

During  these  words  a  chamberlain  entered  to  announce  the 
arrival  of  a  delegation  of  Egyptian  priests  come  to  do  him 
homage. 

The  emperor  immediately  assumed  the  purple  robes,  and 
betook  himself  to  the  audience-room,  there  to  receive  with 
courtly  honors  the  projDhets  and  sacred  fathers  from  the  various 
temples  of  the  ^ile  valley  who  came  to  swear  allegiance  to  him 
as  a  child  of  the  sun  god  and  assure  themselves  of  his  favor 
toward  their  religion.  He  granted  their  request  to  bless,  by 
his  consecrating  presence,  the  sacred  temples  they  served;  but 
the  question  in  what  place  the  lately  discovered  Apis  should  be 
nurtured  he  left  for  awhile  undecided.  This  reception  occu- 
pied several  hours.  Verus  avoided  the  obligation  to  present 
himself  with  the  prefect  and  the  other  dignitaries,  and  re- 
mained standing  at  the  window. 

Turning,  after  Hadrian  left  the  room,  he  found  himself 
alone,  as  Antiuous  went  out  with  the  emperor.  He  had  no- 
ticed the  lingering  of  the  pretor,  and  left  for  that  reason,  feel- 
ing always  repelled  in  presence  of  the  supercilious  mocker. 
Besides,  the  anxiety  he  endured,  with  the  consciousness  of  hav- 
ing f  oa-  the  first  time  dealt  dishonestly  and  underhandedly  with 
his  good  master,  and  soiled  his  hitherto  untainted  soul,  quite 
threw  him  off  his  balance.  He  wanted  to  be  alone,  for  he 
could  not  talk  of  commonplace  affairs  without  pain,  and  to 
pretend  interest  would  have  been  hypocrisy.  He  sat  leaning 
upon  a  little  table  in  his  own  room,  with  his  face  bm-ied  in  his 
hands. 

Verus  did  not  follow  immediately,  for  he  perceived  what  was 
gomg  on  within  him,  and  felt  sure  that  he  could  not  escape 
him.  For  a  few  moments  all  was  still  in  both  the  great  room 
and  the  little  one.  Then  the  pretor  heard  the  door  which 
opened  upon  the  corridor  quickly  moved,  and  the  voice  of  the 
I3ithynian,  saying:  "At  last,  Mastor;  have  you  seen  Selene?" 

With  two  long,  noiseless  steps  Verus  approached  another 
door  leading  into  the  same  apartment  and  listened  for  the  an- 
swer of  the  slave,  which  an  ear  less  sharp  than  that  of  the 
pretor  would  have  caught  distinctly: 

"  How  could  I  see  her?  She  is  still  suffering,  and  remains 
in  her  bed.  I  gave  your  flowers  to  the  deformed  girl  who 
nurses  her.  But  I  will  not  do  it  again,  though  you  should 
coax  more  than  you  did  yesterday,  and  promise  me  all  the 
treasures  of  the  emperor.  What  do  you  want  of  this  poor, 
wan,  innocent  thing?    J  am  only  a  slave,  but  I  can  tell  you — " 

Here  the  voice  dropped  suddenly,  and  Verus  guessed  rightly 


293  THE   EMPEKOR. 

that  Antinous  Imd  remembered  his  proximity  and  commanded 
the  Jazygean  to  silence. 

But  tlic  listener  had  heard  enough. 

The  favorite  had  deceived  his  master,  and  the  suicide  of  the 
overseer's  daughter  was  a  fiction.  Who  would  have  believed 
this  silent  dreamer  to  have  such  self-possession  and  such  cun- 
ning gift  of  invention? 

The  handsome  face  of  the  pretor  shone  with  pleasure  as  he 
made  this  observation/ for  now  he  held  the  Eithynian  in  his 
liand.  He  saw  at  once,  too,  how  he  could  accomplish  that 
which  he  had  at  heart.  Antinous  himself  had  shown  the  way 
when,  Avith  a  tenderness  impossible  to  have  been  feigned,  he 
had  rushed  toward  the  emperor  to  kiss  his  hand.  He  loved 
his  lord,  and  on  this  love  Verus  could  base  his  attempt,  with- 
out showing  himself  or  ha'mg  in  danger  of  betrayal  to  the  em- 
peror. 

AYith  a  steady  hand  the  pretor  knocked  on  the  door  of  the 
next  room,  and  stepped  Avith  bold  self-assurance  toward  the 
Bithynian,  explaining,  as  he  did  so,  that  he  had  something 
important  to  say,  and  begging  him  to  go  with  him  into  the 
emperor's  room,  remarking  so  soon  as  they  were  alone: 

''  I  am  sorry  not  to  be  able  to  count  you  among  my  siDCcial 
friends,  but  we  share  one  imjaortant  sentiment — we  both  love 
the  emperor. '' 

"  I  certainly  love  him,"  answered  Antinous. 

"  Then  it  will  he  as  close  to  your  heart  as  to  mine  to  shield 
him  from  dejjressing  anxiety,  and  prevent  fear  from  par- 
alyzing the  free  flight  of  his  great  spirit." 

"  Most  certainly." 

"  I  was  sure  I  should  find  a  helper  in  you.  Look  at  this 
roll.  It  coiitains  the  calculations  and  tabulations  of  the  great- 
est astrologer  of  our  time;  and  foretells  that  in  this  coming 
night,  between  the  end  of  the  second  and  beginning  of  the 
fourth  hour  after  midnight,  the  stars  will  reveal  to  our  master 
a  most  terrible  misfortune.     Do  j^ou  understand  me?" 

"  Unfortunately,  I  do. " 

"  Later,  the  bad  signs  will  disappear.  If  it  be  jiossible  to 
])rcvcnt  the  observations  of  Hadrian  durijig  that  third  hour, 
he  would  be  saved- from  life-destroying  torment.  "Who  knows 
but  the  stars  lie?  Or,  if  they  reveal  the  truth,  a  disaster  fori'- 
told  only  falls  l)efore  its  time.     Do  you  agree  with  me?" 

"  Your  proposition  is  sensible.     Yet,  I  think — " 

"  It  is  sensible  and  ■wise,"  broke  in  the  ])retor,  firmly  and 
decisively.     "  It  rests  on  you  to  hinder  Hadrian  from  follow- 


THE   EMPEROR.  293 

ing  the  course  of  the  stars  between  the  second  and  fourth  hours 
after  midnight/^ 

"  On  nie?'^  cried  Antinous,  frightened. 

"  On  you,  since  you  are  the  only  one  who  can  do  it. " 

"I?"  asked  the  Bithynian,  dismayed.  "  I  distui'b  the  em- 
peror during  his  observations?" 

"  It  is  your  duty.'" 

"  But  he  never  allows  an  interruption,  and  should  I  attempt 
it,  he  would  only  drive  me  away.  No,  no,  what  you  desire  is 
impossible." 

"  It  is  not  only  possible,  but  necessary. " 

''But  it  can  not  be  so,"  answered  Antinous,  striking  his 
own  forehead.  "Only  hear!  Hadrian  has  known  for  many 
days  that  a  heavy  disaster  threatens.  I  heard  this  from  his 
own  mouth.  If  you  know  him,  you  have  not  failed  to  perceive 
that  he  consults  the  stars,  not  alone  to  anticipate  blessings,  but 
to  learn  how  to  prepare  for  threatened  misfortune.  What 
would  kill  a  weakliug  serves  only  to  sharpen  his  spirit  for  con- 
sent. He  can  bear  everything,  and  it  would  be  wrong  to  de- 
ceive liim. " 

"  But  a  greater  wrong  to  allow  such  gloom  to  shadow  his 
heart  and  mind,"  returned  Verus.  "  Think  of  some  means 
for  drawing  him  away  for  an  hour  from  his  observations  in  the 
watch-tower. " 

"  I  can  think  of  nothing,  can  invent  nothing." 

"  Nothiug?"  asked  Verus,  stej)ping  closer  to  the  Bithynian. 

Antinous  grew  j^ale,  but  the  pretor  continued: 

"  In  order  to  secure  Selene  from  the  lictors  you  invented  a 
plunge  into  the  sea." 

"  She  flung  herself  into  the  sea  as  truly  as  the  gods — " 

"'Hold,  hold,"  interrupted  the  pretor,  "do  not  perjure 
yourself!  Selene  is  alive — you  send  her  flowers;  and  if  it 
should  please  me  to  lead  Hadrian  to  the  house  of  the  widow  of 
Pudens — " 

"Oh,  oh!"  cried  Antinous,  piteously,  seizing  the  hand  of 
the  Roman;  "  you  will  not,  you  can  not,  oh,  verus,  you  will 
not  do  that!" 

"  Simpleton!"  cried  the  pretor,  touching  the  distressed 
youth  lightly  on  the  shoulder,  "  what  would  it-jirofit  me  to  de- 
stroy you?  I  have  only  one  object  in  mind — to  guard  the  em- 
peror from  this  anxiety  and  distress.  Keep  him  busy  during 
the  whole  of  that  third  hour  after  midnight,  and  you  can  count 
on  my  friendship;  but  if  through  timidity  or  ill  nature  you 
refuse,  then  you  do  not  deserve  the  favor  of  your  master,  and 
will  constrain  me — " 


294  THE  IMPEROR. 

'*  No  more,  no  more/'  broke  m  Antinous,  in  great  distress. 

"  Then  do  you  promise  to  fulfill  my  request?" 

"  Yes;  by  Hercules,  what  you  desire  shall  be  done.  But, 
eternal  gods,  how  shall  I  begin  that  the  emjjeror — " 

"  That,  my  young  friend,  I  resign  with  full  confidence  to 
your  cleverness. " 

"  I  am  not  clever,  I  can  not  devise." 

"  What  you  accomplish  through  fear  of  your  master,  will 
succeed  still  better  through  love,"  returned  the  pretor. 
*'  Your  work  is  easy.  Still  if  you  fail  in  it,  I  shall  hold  it  my 
duty  to  point  out  to  Hadrian  how  well  Antinous  understands 
looking  out  for  his  own,  and  how  poorly  for  his  master's  inter- 
est. I  will  see  you  in  the  morning,  my  friend!  Should  you 
wish  to  send  any  more  flowers,  my  slaves  are  at  your  service!" 

With  these  words,  the  pretor  went  out,  leavhig  Antiiious 
crushed  in  spirit,  and  leaning  his  forehead  against  the  cold 
porphyry  column  beside  the  window. 

What  Verus  exacted  Avas  not  exactly  wrong,  yet  it  was  not 
right. 

It  was  treason  to  the  noble  man  whom  he  ardently  loved,  as 
a  father,  as  a  wise,  good  friend  and  teacher,  and  venerated  as 
a  god. 

Craftily  to  hide  threatened  danger,  as  though  he  wei-e  a 
weakling  and  no  man,  was  repugnant,  was  disgraceful,  and 
would  be  regarded  as  a  fault  of  unhraited  magnitude  in  the 
far-reaching  estimate  of  his  master.  Other  reasons  now  oc- 
curred to  his  mind  for  resisting  the  j^retor's  demand,  and  with 
each  new  thought  he  cursed  his  ovm  tardy  spirit,  which  only 
perceived  the  right  path  after  it  was  too  late  to  take  it.  His 
first  error  had  already  led  to  another.  He  was  angry  with 
himself,  he  beat  his  forehead  with  his  fist  and  sobbed  in  his 
pain,  yet  he  did  not  weep. 

In  the  midst  of  liis  self-accusation  he  heard  also  the  flatter- 
ing words:  "It  is  oidy  to  guard  the  sovereign  from  trouble, 
and  that  whi(;h  is  asked  of  you  is  not  wicked."  As  often  as 
he  lent  his  ear  to  this  voice,  he  began  anew  to  rack  his  brains 
for  some  means  through  which  he  could  entice  the  emperor 
away  from  the  watch-tower  during  the  time  specified.  But  he 
could  think  of  nothing  practicable. 

"  It  can  not  be  done;  no,  it  can  not,"  he  murmured  to  him- 
self, and  then  began  to  query  if  it  were  not  his  duty  to  defy 
the  pretor,  and  confess  to  Hadrian  that  he  had  deceived  him. 

If  only  it  were  not  for  that  vial!  Could  he  confess  to  have 
given  away  carelessly  the  gift  of  his  lord?  No,  that  was  too 
hard,  and  might  cost  him  the  love  of  his  master.     And   then, 


THE   EMPEROE.  295 

slioulcl  lie  persist  in  the  half  truth,  and,  simply  to  anticipate 
the  threat  of  the  pretor,  confess  that  Selene  was  still  living, 
the  daughters  of  Keraunus  would  be  ruined.  Selene,  whom 
he  loved  with  the  passion  of  a  lirst  devotion,  and  in  spite  of 
the  great  distance  between  them,  would  fall  into  trouble  and 
disgrace. 

To  confess  his  fault,  therefore,  was  impossible,  entirely  out 
of  the  question.  The  longer  he  thought  over  the  matter,  try- 
ing to  discover  a  way  out  of  his  perplexities,  so  much  the  more 
confused  he  became,  so  much  the  weaker  his  power  of  resist- 
ance. The  pretor  had  wound  him  about  with  bauds  and 
cords,  and  every  attemj^t  to  make  himself  free  only  fastened 
them  closer  aiid  more  inextricably.  His  poor  head  began  to 
ache.  And  how  unending  the  emperor's  absence!  He  feared, 
and  yet  longed  for  his  return,  AVheu  at  last  he  apjjeared  and 
motioned  to  Mastor  to  remove  his  ornamental  robes,  Antinous 
pressed  him  back,  and  rendered  silently  and  carefully  the 
service  belonging  to  the  slave.  He  was  restless  and  troubled, 
yet  he  forced  himself  to  be  cheerful  while  sitting  opposite 
Hadrian  at  the  evening  meal. 

When,  a  short  time  before  midnight,  the  emj)eror  started 
for  the  watch-tower  at  the  northern  end  of  the  palace,  An- 
tinous begged  permission  to  carry  his  instruments,  and  Hadrian 
stroked  his  curly  locks,  saying: 

"  You  are  after  all  my  dear  and  faithful  companion.  Youth 
has  a  right  sometimes  to  go  astray,  if  only  it  do  not  forget  the 
l^atli  of  duty." 

These  words  touched  the  heart  of  Antinous.  and  he  secretly 
pressed  his  lij^s  to  the  folds  of  the  emperor's  toga,  who  was 
walking  in  advance.  It  seemed  as  though  he  would  atone  be- 
forehand for  the  offense  not  yet  committed. 

To  the  end  of  the  first  hour  after  midnight  he  remained 
silently  beside  the  emperor,  wrajiped  in  his  mantle.  The  fresh 
wind  of  the  night  reheved  his  aching  head,  and  incessantly  he 
sought  some  pretense  to  draw  Hadrian  away  from  the  tower, 
but  in  vain.  His  poor  brain  was  like  a  dried-up  well,  into 
which  he  sent  down  bucket  after  bucket,  but  nothing  brought 
back  the  drink  he  needed. 

Once  he  summoned  up  courage  and  asked: 

"  AYill  you  not  go  down  earlier  to-night,  for  you  take  too  lit- 
tle rest,  and  will  injure  your  health?" 

Hadrian  listened  kindly  and  answered: 

"  T  shall  sleep  in  the  morning;  if  you  are  tired  go  now  to 
rest." 

But  Anthious  reinuincd,  looking  also  at  the  stars.    He  knew 


296  THE  EMPEROR. 

not  many  of  those  brilliant  wanderers  by  name,  but  a  few  were 
dear  to  him,  esijecially  the  Pleiades,  which  his  father  had 
pointed  out,  and  they  always  reminded  him  of  his  old  home. 
How  quiet  and  peaceful  had  been  that  life  compared  with  the 
tumultuous  beating  of  his  heart  to-day! 

"Go  to  your  sleep,  the  second  hour  has  already  struck,'* 
cried  Hadrian  to  him. 

"  So  soon?"  he  returned;  and  as  he  thought  how  little  time 
remained  in  which  to  do  what  Verus  had  demanded,  and  again 
looking  into  the  sky  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  all  the  stars  were 
loosened  from  their  places  in  the  blue  vault,  aud  crowded  in 
wild  confusion  betwixt  the  sea  aud  the  sky.  In  distress  he 
closed  Ills  eyes,  and  wishing  his  master  good-night,  he  descend- 
ed from  the  tower,  lighted  by  a  torch  that  flared  in  the  wmd. 
Pontius  had  put  up  this  tower  for  the  nightly  activities  of  the 
emperor,  which  rose  like  a  tall  steeple  ujjon  the  firm  stone  base 
of  an  old  watch-tower,  which,  situated  between  the  store-houses 
belonging  to  the  palace  below,  gave  a  free  outlook  upon  the 
sky  in  all  directions.  Hadrian,  who  loved  to  watch  the  firma- 
ment alone  and  undisturbed,  chose,  even  since  lie  had  made 
himself  known  to  the  Alexandrians,  this  structure  to  the  great 
observatory  of  the  Serajjeum,  from  which  one  could  gain  a 
still  broader  outlook. 

When  Antinous  had  descended  from  the  new  tower  into  the 
old  one  beneath  it,  he  sat  down  upon  the  lowest  stair  to  collect 
himself  and  to  quiet  the  restless  beating  of  his  heart. 

But  here  the  fruitless  search  began  anew.  There  remained 
now  but  a  little  time  for  action,  and  saying  this  to  himself,  his 
brain  worked  more  vigorously.  The  thought  now  occurred  to 
him  of  feigning  sickness  and  calling  the  emperor  to  his  bedside. 
But  Hadrian  w^as  enough  of  a  physician  to  frustrate  this 
scheme;  but  should  he  succeed  in  deceiving  him,  Antinous 
would  be  a  liar.  This  thought  filled  him  with  disgust  of  him- 
self and  terror  for  the  future,  and  yet  it  was  the  only  way  whii-li 
})romised  any  ho])e  of  success.  vVs  he  sprung  u]\,  and  ran 
lither  and  thither  among  the  store-houses,  driven  by  his  in- 
ward um-est,  he  could  devise  no  other  plan.  And  how  quickly 
the  moments  were  sli])ping  away!  It  must  now  be  very  near 
to  the  third  hour,  and  he  had  scarcely  time  to  hasten  into  the 
palace,  throw  himself  on  the  bed,  and  call  Master. 

Bewildered  by  excitement,  and  reeling  like  a  drunkard,  he 
hastened  back  into  tlie  old  tower,  against  whose  wall  he  had 
left  his  torch,  and  looked  up  the  stone  steps. 

8iidd(^nly  the  thought  occurred  to  Ixim  that  he  might  ascend 


THE  EMPEKOE.  297 

once  more  and  throw  himself  down.  Of  what  use  was  his 
wi'etched  life? 

His  fall,  his  cry  would  bring  the  emj)eror  down  from  his 
tower,  and  he  well  knew  that  his  wounded  and  bleeding  favor- 
ite would  not  be  neglected — that  he  could  count  upon.  And 
should  he  come  then  to  his  bedside,  though  he  might  be  giv- 
ing care  to  a  dying  one,  he  would  certainly  be  no  deceiver! 

Determined  for  some  desperate  attempt,  he  drew  closer  the 
girdle  which  held  his  chiton,  and  stepped  into  the  open  air  to 
judge  of  the  hour  from  the  position  of  the  stars.  There  he 
saw  the  waning  crescent  of  the  moon — the  same  moon  which 
had  shone  upon  the  sea  when  he  plunged  into  it  for  the  rescue 
of  Selene.  With  striking  clearness,  the  image  of  the  pale 
young  girl  rose  before  his  soul.  He  seemed  to  hold  her  again 
in  his  arms.  He  saw  her  lying  upon  her  bed,  and  once  more 
touched  her  cold  brow  with  his  hps.  Then  the  vision  disap- 
peared, but  an  intense  longing  for  her  took  its  place,  and  he 
felt  that  he  could  not  die  without  another  sight  of  her.  Again 
he  looked  about  undecided.  Before  him  was  the  largest  store- 
room, under  the  watch-tower,  and  he  passed  by  its  open  door, 
with  torch  in  hand.  Within  its  wide  space  lay  chests  and 
boxes,  tow,  linseed,  the  straw  and  mats  in  which  the  household 
stuff  and  works  of  art  for  the  refurnishing  of  the  palace  had 
been  wrapped. 

This  he  knew,  and  as  he  once  more  looked  toward  the  stai'S 
and  saw  that  the  second  hour  after  midnight  must  be  almost 
ended,  a  sudden,  frightful  thought  flashed  through  his  brain, 
and  without  stojoping  for  one  instant  to  think  of  the  conse- 
quences, he  flung  Iris  torch  into  that  space,  filled  to  the  roof 
with  combustible  stuff',  and  stood  with  folded  arms  to  watch 
the  swiftly  spreading  flame,  the  rising  smoke,  the  struggle  of 
the  whirling  black  vapor  in  blending  with  the  glow,  the  vic- 
tory of  the  fire,  and  the  crackling  blaze  through  every  opening 
of  the  rude  space. 

The  roof  of  palm  branches  and  reeds  was  already  in  flames 
when  Antinous  sj)rung  up  the  stairs  leading  to  the  watch-tower 
of  the  imperial  star-gazer — only  a  few  steps  removed  from  the 
burning  magazine,  with  the  startling  cry: 

* '  Fire !    Fire !     The  building  is  burning ! ' ' 


CHAPTEE  XIV. 

The  banquet  which  Verus  gave  in  celebration  of  his  birth- 
day did  not  seem  anywhere  near  its  end  at  the  beginning  of  the 
third  hour  after  midnight. 


298  THE   EMPEROR. 

Beside  the  titled  and  cultivated  Romans  in  the  suite  of  the 
ciiii)oror,  there  were  also  jiresent  many  of  the  most  prominent 
ancl  illustrious  Alexandrians.  The  feast  itself  was  long  ago  at 
an  end,  but  tankard  after  tankard  of  wine  was  repeatedly 
filled  and  emptied.  Verus  himself  had  been  unanimously 
chosen  as  king  and  leader  of  the  banquet. 

Richly  garlanded,  he  reclined  upon  a  divan  of  his  own  in- 
vention— one  composed  of  four  cushions  piled  together,  and 
covered  with  rose  jDctals. 

A  screen  of  gauze  protected  him  from  gnats  and  flies,  and  a 
lightly  woven  mat  of  lilies  and  other  flowers  covered  his  feet 
and  furnished  fragrance  for  himself  and  a  charming  female 
singer  at  his  side. 

Pretty  boys,  dressed  as  cupids,  waited  the  nod  of  "  the  false 
Eros.'' 

How  quietly  he  who  bore  that  title  seemed  to  rest  upon  the 
luxiu'ious  cusliions.  Yet  his  eyes  were  everywhere,  and  cer- 
tahily  had  not  failed  to  consider  all  the  arrangements  for  the 
banquet,  and  the  conduct  of  it  required  his  closest  supervision. 

As  at  the  banquets  of  Hadrian  in  Rome,  short  extracts  from 
new  books  and  jjoems  were  brought  forward  by  their  authors; 
then  a  comedy  -was  introduced,  and  afterward  Glycera,  the 
most  distinguished  singer  of  the  city,  accompanied  the  harp  in 
a  dithyrambus,  Avith  a  voice  of  bell-like  clearness,  and  Alex- 
ander, a  virtuoso,  executed  a  j^iece  ujion  the  trigon.  At  last  a 
chorus  of  dancers  burst  into  the  apartment,  rocking  and  swing- 
ing to  the  music  of  tambourine  and  double  flute.  Each  new 
form  of  entertainment  elicited  apj^lause.  With  each  tankard 
a  fresh  stream  of  merriment  rose  toward  the  oj^en  roof,  through 
which  the  odor  of  the  flowers  and  the  burning  essences  exhaled 
from  ornamental  altars  found  an  exit.  Already  great  pools  of 
wine,  poured  out  as  libations  to  the  gods,  lay  ujion  the  jiolished 
floor;  shouts  had  drowned  the  music  and  the  songs — the  cheer- 
ful feast  had  become  an  orgy. 

Verus  stimulated  the  silent  and  lazy  guests  to  the  enjoyment 
of  mad  pleasures,  and  gave  to  all  unbridled  license.  He  ac- 
knowledged every  pledge — knew  how  to  entertain  the  fair 
singer  at  liis  side — threw  a  sparkling  jest  into  every  silent 
group;  and  showed  to  the  learned  guests  stretched  upon 
divans  not  far  removed,  that  he  was  interested  in  and  only 
waited  oi)j)ortunity  to  share  their  conversation. 

Alexandria,  that  meeting  point  of  eastern  and  western 
cultivation,  had  seen  other  feasts  than  this  riotous  drinking- 
bout! 

A  good  earnest  conversation  seasoned  alw  the  common  meal 


THE   EMPEROR.  299 

of  the  circle  belonging  to  the  Museum,  but  the  reckless  lux- 
uriance of  Rome  had  found  its  way  into  the  houses  of  the  rich, 
and  even  the  noblest  acquisitions  of  the  human  spirit  were 
changed  unawares  into  mere  means  of  enjoyment. 

One  became  a  philosojiher  in  order  to  be  prominent  and 
able  to  speak  on  all  occasions — and  a  well-told  anecdote  was 
everywhere  more  welcome  than  a  profounder  thought  which 
might  awake  discussion. 

What  a  tumult,  what  a  confusion  of  sounds  raged  within  the 
hall  in  the  second  hour  after  midnight!  How  were  the  lungs 
oppressed  with  the  lieavy  odors;  what  repugnant  sights  met 
the  eye;  how  shamelessly  propriety  was  trampled  under  foot! 
The  poisonous  breath  of  the  confined  air  overthrew  the  admir- 
able moderation  of  the  Greeks,  and  from  the  fumes  of  wine 
enveloping  this  chaos  of  mad  banqueters,  rose  slowly  that  pale 
spirit  who  marked  her  victims  enslaved  for  the  coming  day. 

The  circle  of  divans  occupied  by  Florus,  Favorinus,  and  their 
Alexandrian  friends,  seemed  like  an  island  in  this  surging  sea. 

Even  here  the  wine-cup  had  passed  freely,  and  Florus  spoke 
with  a  stammering  tongue,  yet  sensible  conversation  main- 
tained its  ascendency.  The  emperor  had  been  hi  the  Museum 
two  days  before,  and  carried  on  a  scientific  discussion  with 
the  most  prominent  sages,  in  presence  of  their  pujDils.  At  the 
last,  a  formal  dis25utation  had  arisen.  The  cris])  and  dialectic 
sharpness  with  which  Hadrian,  using  the  pure  Attic  Greek, 
had  driven  his  antagouist  into  a  corner,  was  well  worthy  of  ad- 
miration, and  he  had  left  the  institution  with  the  promise  to 
confront  his  opponents  upon  another  occasion. 

The  philosoj)hers,  Pankrates  and  Dionysius,  with  the  strictly 
temjDerate  Apollonius,  described  the  single  exploits  of  this  re- 
markable intellectual  contest,  and  praised  the  wonderful  mem- 
ory and  ready  tongue  of  the  emjjeror. 

"  And  jet  you  have  not  seen  him  in  his  best  hours !^'  cried 
Favorinus,  the  Gallic  sophist  and  rhetorician.  "He  has  re- 
ceived an  oracle  foretelling  a  misfortune,  which  the  stars  seem 
to  confirm,  and  that  destroys  his  mood.  But  among  ourselves, 
let  me  say,  that  I  know  very  few  who  can  suri^ass  him  in  dia- 
lectics; and  in  his  cheerful  hours  he  is  simply  irresistible. 
Since  we  became  reconciled,  he  has  treated  me  like  a  brotlier. 
I  stand  up  for  him  against  every  man,  for  I  say  again  he  is 
my  brother. " 

The  Gaul  looked  about  him  after  these  words  with  glowing 
eyes,  as  if  uttering  a  challenge.  He  was  pale  from  drinking, 
irritable,  boastful,  and  very  loquacious. 

"  Certainly,  you  are  right,"  answered  Apollonius.     "  Eut  it 


300  tht:  emperor. 

seemed  to  us  lie  mic^lit  Ijo  bitter  in  a  contest.  His  eyes  are 
more  gloomy  iluin  cJiecrfiil.'' 

'"  ife  is  my  brother,''  returned  Favorinus,  "and  as  to  his 
eyes — by  Hercules  I  I  have  seen  thorn  like  a  clear  sun,  or 
flashing  stars!  And  his  mouth!  I  know  him  well!  He  is  my 
brother,  and  I  will  wager  that,  while  he  may  condescend  to 
dispute  with  you — it  is  too  comical — at  each  comer  of  his 
mouth  there  lurked  a  roguish  smile — look  at  me — like  this!" 

"  1  repeat  it,  he  seemed  to  us  more  gloomy  than  mirthful/' 
returned  ApoUonius,  annoyed,  and  Pankrates  added: 

"  If  he  does  understand  jesting,  he  did  not  let  us  see  it." 

"  That  is  nothing,"  laughed  the  Gaul.  "  You  do  not  3'et 
know  him,  but  I  am  his  friend^  and  can  be  wherever  he  is. 
Wait  a  little,  I  will  relate  a  few  anecdotes  of  him.  If  I 
wished,  I  could  describe  him  to  you  as  distinctly  as  though  he 
were  lying  upon  the  surface  of  the  wine  in  my  goblet.  Once, 
in  Rome,  as  he  was  inspecting  the  newly  ornamented  baths  of 
Agrippa,  he  saw  in  the  Ap3^doterium  *  an  old  man,  a  veteran, 
who  had  somewhere  been  a  companion  in  arms — my  memory 
is  pretty  good,  but  his  never  fails.  Naturally,  Hadrian  recog- 
nized the  man,  and  stepped  toward  him.  Scaurus,  I  think, 
was  the  name  of  the  old  man;  yes,  Scaurus.  He  did  not  ijii- 
mediately  noti(!e  the  X^Jsesar,  for  his  scars  had  been  inflamed  by 
the  bath,  and  he  was  rubbing  his  back  against  the  rough  stone 
pillar.  Then  Hadrian  asked  this  gray-beard,  '  Why  do  you 
scratch  yourself,  my  friend?'  And  Scaurus  answered,  a  httle 
shortly,  without  looking  around,  or  having  recognized  the  em- 
peror's voice:  '  Because  I  have  no  slave  to  do  it  for  me.'  You 
should  have  heard  the  em2)eror  laugh!  Liberal  as  he  some- 
times is — I  say  sometimes — he  sent  immediately  to  Scaurus  a 
handsome  sum  and  two  etiicient  slaves.  This  story  was  soon 
spread  abroad,  and  when  the  man  whom  you  think  can  not 
joke  came  again  to  the  bath,  two  soldiers  placed  themselves  in 
liis  way,  scratching  their  backs  against  the  wall  as  Scaurus  had 
done,  and  cried  out  to  him:  '  Great  Ca;sar,  we  have  no  slaves!' 
'  Then  scratch  each  other,'  he  retorted,  and  left  the  soldiers  to 
scratch." 

"  Excellent!"  exclaimed  Florus,  laughing. 

"  Now  one  more  true  story,"  continued  the  Gaul.  "  Once 
a  man  with  white  hair  asked  alms  of  the  emperor.  The  fellow 
was  a  i-agamuffin,  a  parasiti',  who  went  from  one  table  to  an- 
other and  got  his  living  out  of  strangers.  'J'he  emperor,  who 
understands  liuman  r.ature,  sent  him  away.     But  this  hanger- 

*  The  disroljinir  room  of  the  bath. 


THE   EMPEEOR.  "  301 

on  colored  his  hair,  so  that  lie  might  not  be  recognized,  and 
tried  his  fate  with  the  emperor  a  second  time.  But  Hadrian's 
eyes  are  good.  He  sent  him  from  the  door,  saying,  in  the  most 
serious  manner:  '  I  have  quite  lately  refused  to  give  anything 
to  your  father. '  A  hundred  similar  stories  pass  from  mouth 
to  mouth  in  Eome,  and  if  you  like  I  will  repeat  a  dozen  of 
the  best.^' 

"  Relate  them  all;  out  with  your  stories.  They  are — old 
acquaintances  of  mine,^^  stammered  Floras.  "  We  can  drink 
while  Favorinus  is  babbling." 

The  Gaul  looked  in  scorn  upon  the  Roman,  and  answered, 
quickly: 

"  My  words  are  too  good  for  drunkards.^' 

Floras  sought  a  rejjly,  but  before  he  had  found  it,  the  body- 
slave  of  the  pretor  burst  into  the  banqueting-room  with  the" 
cry: 

"  The  emperor^s  palace  on  the  Lochias  is  in  jBames!'' 

Verus  kicked  his  lily  covering  to  the  floor,  tore  open  the 
gauze  netting,  and  cried  to  the  breathless  servant:  "My 
chariot!  quick,  my  chariot!  I  will  see  you  again,  on  some 
other  evening,  my  friends;  thanks  for  the  honor  you  have 
shown  me.     I  must  go  to  the  Lochias." 

Simultaneously  with  Verus,  who,  without  the  j)rotection  of 
the  pallium,  rushed  into  the  cool  night  air,  the  greater  part  of 
his  guests  sprung  up  and  hastened  out  of  the  hall  to  see  the 
fire  and  hear  the  news.  Only  a  few  went  to  help  the  citizens 
put  it  out,  and  many  of  the  tipplers  lay  still  upon  their  couches. 
As  Favorinus  and  the  Alexandrians  rose  from  theu'  couches, 
Florus  cried: 

"  No  god  could  drag  me  out,  not  even  if  the  whole  house  be 
burned  down,  and,  for  all  I  care,  Rome  and  Alexandria,  and 
all  other  jalaces  on  the  earth  into  the  bargain.  Let  them  burn ! 
The  Roman  Empire  can  never  be  greater  or  more  perfect  than 
under  the  Caesars!  It  may  burn  up  like  a  house  of  straw;  I 
shall  stay  here  and  drink!" 

Inextricable  seemed  the  confusion  in  the  banqueting-room, 
while  Verus  hastened  to  inform  Sabina  of  the  fire. 

Balbilla  had  been  the  first  to  notice  it  as  she  sat  down,  after 
working  late  into  the  night,  to  look  out  at  the  sea  before 
retiring  to  her  bed.  She  had  instantly  rushed  out  with  the 
cry  of  fire,  and  sought  a  chamberlain  to  waken  Sabina. 

The  whole  peninsula  of  tlio  Lochias  glowed  in  purple  and 
gold,  and  formed  the  nucleus  of  a  broad  stream  of  tender  red 
rays,  whose  compass  and  clearness  changed  with  each  passing 
moment, 


302  THE   EMPEROR. 

Verus  met  tlie  poetess  at  the  door  leading  from  the  apart- 
ments of  the  empress  into  the  garden.  This  time  he  did  not 
employ  his  usual  style  of  greeting,  but  asked,  quickly: 

"  Has  Sabina  been  told?'' 

"1  think  not  yet/' 

"  Let  her  be  wakened.  Salute  her  from  me.  I  must  go  to 
the  Lochias." 

"  AVe  shall  follow  you." 

"  Stay  here,  you  would  be  in  the  way  there." 

"  I  shall  take  but  a  little  room,  and  I  go.  What  a  magnifi- 
cent spectacle!" 

"  Eternal  gods!  a  flame  is  bursting  out  from  under  the  pal- 
ace in  the  king's  harbor!    Where  can  be  my  chariot?" 

"  Will  you  take  me  with  you?" 

"  No,  you  must  waken  the  empress." 

"  And  Lucilla?" 

"  You,  woman,  must  stay  where  you  are." 

"  T  certainly  shall  not.     Will  the  emperor  be  in  danger?" 

*'  Hardly;  the  old  stone  building  can  not  burn." 

"  See  how  magnificent!  the  sky  is  like  a  purple  tent.  I  beg, 
Verus,  that  you  allow  me  to  go  ^\ith  you." 

"  No,  fairest;  only  men  are  needed  there." 

"  How  imkind  you  are!" 

"At  last!  There  comes  the  chariot;  you,  woman,  must 
stay  here.     Do  you  understand  me?" 

"  I  will  not  be  commanded,  and  shall  go  to  the  Lochias." 

"  To  see  Antinous  in  the  flames!  One  can  not  command 
such  a  spectacle  every  day,"  cried  Verus  in  derision,  springing 
into  the  chariot,  and  taking  the  reins  in  his  own  hands. 

Balbilla  stamped  impatiently.  Then  she  went  into  the 
apartments  of  the  empress,  determined  to  visit  the  fire. 

The  eniiircss  allowed  no  one  to  see  her  before  she  was  fully 
dressed,  not  even  Balbilla.  Her  dressing-maid  brought  the 
message  that  Sabina  would  certainly  rise,  but  her  health  would 
not  permit  her  to  go  out  in  the  night  air. 

The  poetess  betook  herself  to  Lucilla,  and  begged  her  com- 
pany to  the  Lochias.  She  consented  instantly,  but  on  learn- 
ing that  lier  husband  wished  the  ladies  to  remain  at  the 
Caisareum,  declared  herself  under  obligation  to  obey,  and  sought 
to  detain  Balbilla.  But  the  defiant  girl  was  resolved,  partly 
because  Verus  had  forbidden  it  and  had  opposed  and  ridi- 
oiUed  her  wish. 

After  exchanging  a  few  Avords  with  her  friend,  she  left  her, 
and  seeking  her  companion,  Claudia,  ex])lained  to  her  what  she 
had  determined  to  do;  and  overcoming  her  opi)osition  to  the 


THE  EMPEROK.  303 

plan  witti  a  few  decisive  words,  ordered  in  her  own  person  the 
house-steward  to  provide  her  a  vehicle,  and  left  for  the  threat- 
ened palace  an  hour  and  a  half  later  than  Verus. 

An  immense  crowd  surrounded  the  land  side  of  the  Lochais 
and  the  harbor  at  its  foot,  where  a  few  store-houses  and  wharves 
were  in  flames.  Boats  without  number  swarmed  about  the 
tongue  of  land. 

With  loud  shouts  and  immense  efforts,  an  attempt  was  being 
made  to  take  the  great  ships  anchored  in  the  roadstead  to  a 
place  of  greater  safety.  All  was  illuminated  by  a  light  as 
clear  but  redder  and  more  unsteady  than  that  of  day.  The 
north-east  wind  swayed  the  flames,  making  the  labor  of  put- 
ting them  out  much  greater. 

Each  burning  store-house  had  become  a  gigantic  torch,  scat- 
tering the  darkness  of  the  night.  The  white  marble  light- 
house upon  the  Isle  of  Pharos — the  highest  in  the  world — was 
wrapped  in  brilliant  glowing  red,  making  the  usually  bright 
light  at  its  tip  pale  and  feeble  in  comparison. 

The  dark  bodies  of  the  great  ships  and  the  crowd  of  boats  in 
the  distance  were  surrounded  by  a  fiery  gleam,  and  the  quiet 
sea  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  shore  seemed  to  reflect  the  brill- 
iance enveloping  the  whole  peninsula  as  in  a  mirror. 

Balbilla  was  unwearied  in  her  admnation  of  these  brilliant 
colors  that  seemed  vying  with  each  other,  and  the  contrast  of 
the  fullest  light  with  the  deepest  shadows.  And  she  had  time 
to  consider  this  wonderfid  picture,  for  her  chariot  moved  very 
slowly  onward,  and  where  the  street  led  from  the  king's  liar- 
bor  to  the  palace,  lictors  stejDped  in  her  way,  declaring  positive- 
ly that  any  further  progress  was  impossible.  The  horses,  dis- 
turbed by  the  glare  of  the  flames  and  the  crowd  that  pressed 
upon  them,  became  unmanageable,  reared,  and  threw  them- 
selves against  the  body  of  the  chariot. 

The  charioteer  declared  he  could  no  longer  be  responsible 
for  them. 

The  common  people,  rushing  by  to  assist  at  the  flre,  began  to 
insult  the  idle  women,  who  had  better  have  stayed  beside  their 
looms  than  crowd  into  the  way  of  the  citizens. 

"  There  is  time  enough  for  pleasure-driving  by  daylight,'' 
cried  one,  and  another  said: 

''  Should  a  spark  light  in  the  curls  up  there,  it  would  cause 
the  outbreak  of  another  conflagration. " 

The  situation  of  the  poetess  became  each  moment  more  in- 
tolerable, and  she  commanded  her  charioteer  to  turn. 

But  in  the  crowded  thw'oughfare,  the  command  was  more 
easily  given  than  obeyed.     One  horse,  bursting  the  thongs 


304  THE  tJMPEROft. 

which  bound  the  yoke  resting  upon  liis  withers  to  the  pole, 
sprung  to  one  side  and  frightened  the  crowd;,  who  began  to 
scold  as  tliey  retreated. 

Balbilla  wislied  to  leaj)  from  the  chariot^,  but  Claudia  held 
her  fast,  and  conjured  her  not  to  leave  her  to  destruction. 

The  patrician's  spoiled  daughter  was  not  timid,  but  she 
would  have  given  a  good  deal  by  this  time  to  have  followed  the 
advice  of  Verus.  At  first  she  thought:  "  It  is  a  fine  advent- 
ure, though  I  shall  be  glad  when  it  is  safely  ended. "  Later 
the  sport  had  lost  every  trace  of  its  charm  and  repentance  took 
its  i)lace.  Wcejiing  would  have  been  much  eiusier  thaii  laugh- 
ing, when  a  deep,  authoritative  voice  behind  called  out : 

"  Make  way  for  the  pumps!  Whatever  blocks  their  way 
must  be  thrown  to  the  side!" 

These  frightful  words  made  Claudia  fall  on  her  knees,  but 
the  depressed  sjjirit  of  Balbilla  found  new  wings  on  hearing 
them,  for  she  'had  recognized  the  voice  of  Pontius,  and  his 
horse  was  directly  behind  her  chariot.  He  was  the  rider  she 
had  seen  spring  from  the  sea  toward  one  of  the  flaming  store- 
houses, then  back  again  to  the  sea,  hither  and  thither,  in  all 
directions.  She  turned  squarely  toward  him,  calling  his  name. 
He  recognized  her,  while  tr3dng  to  check  the  speed  of  his 
mighty  horse,  but  shook  his  head  with  a  smile,  as  much  as  to 
say: 

"  She  is  a  giddy-headed  thing,  and  deserves  a  scolding,  but 
who  could  be  angry  Avith  her?"  and  then  commanded  the  guard 
of  safety  accorai^anying  him,  exactly  as  if  she  were  a  bale  or 
bundle  of  goods,  and  not  the  titled  heiress: 

"  Unharness  the  horses;  we  can  use  them  to  drag  the  water! 
Help  the  ladies  out  of  the  chariot!  Take  them  between  you, 
Nonnus  and  Lucanus!  Now  shove  the  carriage  among  the 
buslies  yonder!  Room,  there  forward,  room  for  our  tack- 
ling!" 

Each  command  was  obeyed  as  23romptly  as  though  issued  by 
a  general  to  his  disci phned  troojjs. 

After  the  pumps  were  in  motion,  Pontius,  riding  up  to  the 
side  of  Balbilla,  said : 

"  The  emperor  is  well  protected.  As  to  yourself,  )'ou 
wanted  a  nearer  look  at  the  fire,  and  indeed  it  is  a  grand  sight. 
I  have  not  time  to  take  you  back  to  the  Ca^sareum.  Follow 
me  now.'  Yonder  in  the  stone  house  of  the  harbor-guard  you 
can  be  hidden,  and  from  the  roof  may  overlook  tlie  Lochias 
and  the  whole  peninsula.  Your  eyes  will  have  a  rare  treat, 
but  I  beg  you  not  to  forget  how  many  days  of  honest  toil, 
what  rich  treasures  Avon  l^y  severe  industry  are  going  to  de- 


Me  emperor.  305 

stmction  iu  this  hour.  That  which  entertains  you  will  cost 
bitter  tears  to  many,  and  we  must  both  hope  that  this  grand 
spectacle  has  already  reached  its  height  and  approaches  its 
end." 

"  That  I  hope  most  heartily/^  cried  the  girl. 

"  I  knew  it.  As  soon  as  possible  I  will  look  after  you. 
Nonnus  and  Lucanus,  conduct  these  noble  ladies  to  the  house 
of  the  harbor-watch.  Say  to  him  that  they  are  intimate  friends 
of  the  empress.  Where  are  they  taidng  the  pumps?  I  will 
see  you  again,  Balbilla!"  And  i:he  architect  gave  his  horse 
free  rein,  and  broke  a  path  through  the  crowd. 

Quarter  of  an  hour  later  the  girl  stood  upon  the  roof  of  the 
little  house. 

Caludia,  utterly  exhausted,  and  unable  to  speak,  sat  upon  a 
rough  wooden  chair  in  the  musty  common  room  below. 

The  young  Roman  looked  now  upon  the  flames  with  differ- 
ent eyes.  Pontius  had  taught  her  another  view  from  that 
which  had  so  lately  filled  her  only  with  delight,  as  she  watched 
them  rising  high  and  fierce  toward  the  sky.  They  were  mighty 
enough  when  she  ascended  the  roof,  but  they  soon  subsided, 
and  it  seemed  difficult  for  them  to  rise  above  the  clouds  of 
black  smoke. 

Balbilla  looked  about  for  the  architect,  and  soon  descried 
him,  for  a  man  on  horseback  was  lifted  above  the  crowd.  He 
stood  sometimes  by  one,  then  beside  another  of  the  ware- 
houses. Once  he  disappeared  for  an  hour,  while  he  was  at  the 
Lochias.  Then  he  reajjpeared,  and  wherever  he  went  the 
fury  of  the  raging  element  abated.  Almost  imjjerceptibly  the 
wind  had  died  away,  the  air  grew  stiller  and  warmer.  This 
circumstance  aided  the  labor  of  the  citizens,  but  Balbilla  at- 
tributed all  their  success  to  the  supervision  of  her  vigorous 
friend.  Once  she  saw  that  he  ordered  a  building  torn  down 
which  separated  a  burning  granary  from  a  few  store-houses 
still  untouched  by  the  flames,  and  understood  that  he  wished 
to  cut  off  the  progress  of  the  flames. 

Another  time  she  saw  him  standing  uj^on  a  low  hill. 
Directly  before  him  was  a  magazine  containing  tow  and  barrels 
of  resin  and  tar,  all  hi  flames.  His  face  was  toward  her,  and 
she  could  see  the  movement  of  his  hands  as  he  quietly  gave  his 
orders.  His  own  figure,  and  that  of  the  restless  horse  under 
him,  made  a  noble  picture  in  the  ruddy  glow.  She  trembled 
for  him,  she  admired  this  fearless,  vigorous,  firm  man,  and  as 
a  buniing  beam  fell  close  beside  him,  and  the  frightened  horse, 
at  first  beginning  to  wheel  with  him,  was  at  length  subdued  by 
his  influence,  the  pretor's  sarcasm,  uame  to  her  thought — that 


SOG  THE   EMPEROR. 

slie  insisted  on  visiting  the  Lochias  in  order  to  see  Antinous 
in  the  flames. 

She  saw  here  a  worthier  spectacle,  and  yet  there  rose  before 
lier  lively  imagination — which  often,  and  sometimes  against 
her  will,  gave  form  to  her  shapeless  thoughts — the  image  of 
that  handsome  youth  enveloped  in  the  glowing  light  which 
coloi-cd  the  horizon. 

Hour  after  hour  passed;  the  labor  of  the  thousand  workers 
seemed  crowned  with  visible  success.  One  flame  after  another 
was  subdued — smoldering,  if  not  quite  extinguished,  for  only 
smoke  mixed  with  sparks  now  rose  into  the  sky.  Yet  Pontius 
came  not  to  look  after  her. 

She  saw  no  stars,  for  the  sky  was  overcast  with  clouds;  but 
the  dawn  of  another  day  must  now  be  near.  She  was  chilled 
through,  and  the  long  delay  of  her  friend  was  vexatious. 

As  great  drops  of  rain  began  to  fall  she  descended  by  a  lad- 
der from  the  roof,  and  sat  beside  the  fire  in  the  harbor-mas- 
ter's house,  near  to  Claudia,  who  was  fast  asleep. 

There  she  had  been  for  half  an  hour,  gazing  dreamily  into 
the  comfortable  glow,  when  she  heard  hoof-beats,  and  Pontius 
appeared,  with  blackened  face  and  hoarse  from  hours  of  loud 
command. 

Balbilla  forgot  her  vexation  as  soon  as  she  saw  him,  greeted 
him  kindly,  and  told  him  she  had  watched  his  every  motion; 
but  this  lively  and  quick-witted  girl  found  herself  utterly  un- 
able to  express  the  admiration  which  his  conduct  of  the  affair 
had  excited  within  her.  She  heard  him  say  that  his  mouth 
was  parched  and  his  throat  choked  with  thirst,  and  she — who 
was  used  to  call  a  slave  if  needing  only  a  pin,  and  to  whom 
fate  had  given  no  person  towai-d  whom  she  might  gladly  have 
shown  herself  serviceable — filled  with  her  own  hand  a  cup  from 
the  great  clay  pitcher  of  water  in  one  corner  of  the  room,  and 
passed  it,  begging  him  to  drink. 

He  swallowed  eagerly  the  refreshing  draught,  and  when  the 
little  vessel  Avas  empty  she  took  it  from  his  hand,  and,  refill- 
ing, brought  it  to  him  once  more. 

Claudia,  who  had  been  wakened  by  the  entrance  of  Pontius, 
looked  with  surprise  at  this  unprecedented  action,  shaking  her 
head.  As  Pontius  emptied,  for  the  third  time,  the  cuj)  that 
Balbilla  brought,  he  said,  drawing  a  long  breath : 

"  That  was  a  drink!  A  better  in  all  my  life  T  liave  not 
tasted." 

"  Impure  water  from  a  poor  clay  cup,"  answered  the  girl. 

"  But  better  than  wine  of  Byblos  out  of  a  golden  goblet. " 


THE   EMPEKOR.  307 

"  You  have  honestly  earned  refreshment,  and  tliirst  seasons 
the  humblest  beverage." 

"  You  forget  the  hand  which  brought  it  to  m.e,"  returned 
the  architect,  heartily. 

Balbilla  blushed  and  cast  her  eyes  confusedly  to  the  floor, 
but  only  for  a  moment.  She  raised  them  again,  and  said,  in 
her  old  bright  and  careless  manner: 

"  Now,  then,  having  received  costly  entertainment,  you  will 
be  taking  yourself  home,  and  the  magician  of  the  repast  will 
be  transformed  into  the  great  architect.  Before  this  happens, 
I  beg  you  to  tell  us  what  god  brought  you  back  from  Pelusium 
at  the  critical  moment  when  this  fire  originated,  and  how 
matters  now  stand  in  the  palace  on  the  Lochias. " 

"  My  time  is  short,"  answered  Pontius,  but  he  hastily  nar- 
rated that  after  finishing  his  work  in  Pelusium  he  had  re- 
turned by  im2)erial  post  to  Alexandria.  But  as  he  descended 
from  the  chariot  at  the  post  station,  he  had  noticed  the  appear- 
ance of  fire  over  the  sea,  and  directly  after  learned  from  a 
slave  that  something  was  burning  on  the  Lochias.  There  were 
plenty  of  horses  at  the  station,  and  selecting  a  strong  one, 
he  had  succeeded  in  reaching  the  palace  before  the  crowd.  As 
to  the  cause  of  the  conflagration,  that  was  still  unknown. 

"  The  emperor,"  he  said,  "  was  watching  the  sky  at  the 
moment  the  flames  burst  out  of  a  store-house  near  the  watch- 
tower.  Antinous  noticed  it  first,  and,  crying  '  Fire!^  had 
warned  his  master.  I  found  Hadrian  in  great  excitement.  He 
commissioned  me  to  superintend  the  work  of  jiutting  it  out. 
Verus  worked  with  me  so  boldly  and  efficiently  that  I  am  un- 
der great  obligations  to  him.  Tlie  emperor  himself  kejDt  his 
favorite  in  the  palace,  for  the  poor  fellow  burned  both  hands.  '^ 

"Ah!"  cried  Balbilla,  with  lively  regret,  "how  did  that 
liapi)en?" 

"  As  Hadrian  and  Antinous  first  came  down  from  the  tower, 
they  brought  as  many  instruments  and  documents  as  they  were 
able  to  carry.  But  at  the  bottom  Hadrian  noticed  that  tablets 
with  most  imj)ortant  calculations  had  been  left  at  the  to]?,  and 
expressed  his  regret.  Meanwhile  the  fire  had  caught  the  frail 
structure  of  the  new  tower,  and  it  seemed  impossible  to  go  into 
it  again.  But  the  Bithynian  dreamer  can  wake  out  of  his 
slumber;  and  wliile  the  emperor  was  looking  anxiously  after 
the  bundles  of  l)urning  flax  which  the  wind  was  bringing  into 
the  harbor,  the  fool-hardy  fellow  burst  into  the  burning  build- 
ing, threw  the  tablets  down  from  the  tower,  and  hastened  to 
the  stairs.  This  bold  deed  would  have  cost  the  jioor  fellow  his 
life  if  the  slave  Mastor,  who  in  the  meantime  had  hurried  after 


308  THE   EMPEROR. 

him,  hail  not  carried  him  into  the  air  from  the  stone  steps  that 
led  11])  to  the  new  tower,  where  he  found  him  swooning  and 
lialf  suffocated."' 

"  But  ho  Hves,  that  lordly,  that  godlike  youth,  and  is  out 
of  danger?"  asked  Balbilla,  in  a  tone  of  great  anxiety. 

"  lie  is  now  quite  well.  Only  ui^on  his  hands,  as  I  told  you, 
he  will  carry  marks  of  the  conflagration,  and  his  hair  was  some- 
what singed,  but  that  will  grow  again." 

"  Tlie  soft,  graceful  locks!"  cried  Balbilla.  "  Let  us  go 
home,  Claudia.  The  gardener  will  cut  us  a  fine  bunch  of 
roses,  and  we  will  send  it  to  please  Autinous."' 

'*  Flowers,  to  a  man  who  does  not  want  them?"  asked  Pon- 
tius, seriously. 

"  How  else  can  we  reward  his  virtues  and  honor  his 
beauty?"  asked  Balbilla. 

'"  The  consciousness  of  an  honest  effort  is  our  sufficient  re- 
ward, or  the  laurel  from  the  hands  of  commissioned  men. ' ' 

"  And  the  beauty?" 

"  Tliat  of  women  brings  to  them  admiration,  perhaps 
also  love  and  flowers;  that  of  men  may  rejoice  the  eyes,  but 
the  effort  to  honor  it  belongs  to  no  mortal  woman." 

"  To  whom  else,  if  I  may  be  allowed  the  question?" 

"  To  the  art,  which  immortalizes." 

"  But  the  roses  might  cai'ry  comfort  and  pleasure  to  the 
suffering  youth." 

"  Then  send  them  to  the  sick,  but  not  to  the  handsome 
boy,"  returned  Pontius. 

Balbilla  was  silent,  and  with  her  companion  followed  the 
architect  to  the  harbor.  There  he  took  his  leave,  having 
placed  them  in  a  boat  which  would  carry  them  to  the  Cacsa- 
reum  under  one  of  the  arched  bridges  of  the  lleptastadium. 

UjDon  the  way,  the  younger  Eoman  Avoman  remarked  to  the 
elder:  "  Pontius  has  spoiled  my  fun  with  the  roses.  The  sick 
Antinous  is  of  course  the  handsome,  and  if  one  must  believe — 
I  shall  do  just  as  I  please,  still  it  is  best  to  leave  the  flowers 
uncuf 


CHAPTER  XV. 

The  city  was  out  of  danger,  the  fire  was  extinguished.  The 
architect  Pontius  found  no  rest  before  noon.  Three  horses 
had  given  out  under  him,  but  his  nervous  vigor  and  healthy 
s])irit  held  out,  in  sjjite  of  all  demands.  So  soon  as  he  dared 
look  upon  the  work  as  finished,  he  betook  himself  to  liis  own 


THE   EMPEEOK.  309 

dwelling.  He  needed  a  little  rest,  but  already  in  his  vestibule 
he  found  many  who  were  waiting  to  disj)ute  it  with  him. 

A  man  in  the  midst  of  affairs,  who  sujDerintends  many  un- 
dertakings, can  not,  without  paying  a  penalty,  absent  himself 
from  the  scene  of  his  labors  for  a  series  of  days.  The  demands 
accumulate  and  plunge  upon  him,  at  his  return,  like  water 
when  the  shiice-ways  that  held  it  back  are  oj)ened. 

Full  twenty  people,  who  were  aware  of  his  return,  pressed 
forward  as  soon  as  he  appeared.  Many  of  them,  he  well  knew, 
were  there  on  important  business;  but  he  felt  that  he  had 
reached  the  end  of  his  strength,  and  was  resolved  to  secure  a 
little  rest  at  any  price.  His  usually  considerate  manner  could 
no  longer  be  maintained  against  the  extraordinary  demands 
made  on  his  powers  of  endurance.  Angry,  vexed  and  indig- 
nant, he  pointed  to  his  begrimed  face,  and  cried,  as  he  forced 
his  way  through  the  waiting  crowd: 

"  To-morrow,  to-morrow,  or  if  necessary,  after  sunset,  to- 
day. But  now  I  need  rest,  rest,  rest !  You  see  yourselves  the 
condition  1  am  in." 

All,  even  the  builders  and  contractors,  who  had  come  on 
pressing  errands,  gave  way.  Only  one  elderly  man,  the  house- 
steward  of  his  sister  Paulina,  held  him  by  the  smoke-stained 
and  in  many  i3laces  singed  chiton,  saying  quickly  and  in  a  low 
tone: 

"  My  mistress  sends  her  greeting.  She  has  things  to  discuss 
with  you  that  admit  of  no  delay.  I  dare  not  leave  until  you 
promise  to  see  her  to-day.  Our  chariot  waits  for  you  at  the 
garden-gate." 

"  Send  it  home,"  returned  Pontius,  not  even  kindly. 
"  Paulina  must  have  patience  for  a  few  hours." 

''  I  had  instructions  to  bring  you  immediately." 

*'  But  in  this  condition — like  this — I  can  not  go,"  cried  the 
architect,  vehemently.  "  Have  you  no  consideration?  And 
yet — who  knows?     Tell  her  I  will  come  in  two  hours." 

After  Pontius  escaped  this  j)etitioner  also,  he  took  a  bath, 
and  then  seated  himself  to  partake  of  a  meal,  but  even  while 
eating  and  drinking  he  was  not  unoccupied,  but  read  business 
documents,  and  looked  over  several  designs  drawn  by  his  as- 
sistants during  his  absence. 

"  Do  give  yourself  a  little  time  of  rest,"  begged  the  old 
housekeeper,  who  had  been  his  nurse  and  loved  him  as  if  her 
own  son. 

"  I  must  go  to  my  sister,"  he  replied,  shrugging  his  shoul- 
ders. 

"We  know  her  well,^'  answered  the  old  woman.     "For 


310  THE  e:hperor. 

nothing,  and  less  than  nothing,  she  sends  for  yon,  and  you 
need  refreshment.  Is  the  cusliion  laid  right?  And  now  let 
me  ask  if  the  lowest  stone- carriers  have  a  life  as  hard  as  your-s? 
Not  even  at  meal-time  do  you  allow  yourself  a  comfortable 
hour.  This  poor  head  is  never  quiet;  even  the  nights  arc 
turned  into  day-time — always  busy,  and  always  must  be  busy, 
and  if  only  one  knew  for  whom?^' 

"  Yes,  i'or  whom?'"  sighed  Pontius,  thrusting  his  arms  be- 
tween he;id  and  cushion.  ' '  You  see,  little  mother,  rest  must 
follow  work,  as  night  the  day,  as  winter  the  summer.  The 
man  who  has  dear  ones  in  the  house,  as  a  wife  and  merry  chil- 
dren, it  may  be — those  who  would  beautify  the  hours  of  rest 
and  make  them  the  best  of  the  day — he  would  be  wise  to  pro- 
tract them,  but  it  is  different  with  me. " 

"  But  why  different,  my  Pontius?'" 

**  Let  me  finish.  You  know  I  never  enjoy  the  gossip  of  the 
bath,  or  the  prolonged  banquet.  In  the  pauses  of  work  I  am 
alone  with  myself  and  the  very  worthy  old  Lenkippe.  The 
hours  of  recreation  are  not  my  best,  but  empty  pauses  between 
the  acts  in  the  theater  of  my  life,  and  therefore  no  reasonable 
person  can  complain  if  I  make  them  shorter  through  some 
useful  occupation.'" 

"  And  what  is  the  natural  conclusion  of  tliis  sensible  speech? 
Simply  that  you  must  marry."" 

Pontius  sighed;  but  Lenkippe  added,  with  zeal:  "  You  need 
not  search!  The  most  resjoectable  fathers  and  mothers  would 
run  after  you  and  lead  their  fairest  child  to  your  door." 

"  Some  (ihild  that  I  do  not  know,  and  who  Avoidd  perhaps 
destroy  that  time  between  the  acts  I  noAv  turn  at  least  to  some 
useful  occupation."" 

"  They  say,""  answered  the  old  woman,  "  that  marriage  is 
a  game  of  chance.  One  gets  high,  another  low  points.  The 
first  gahis  a  wife  like  the  diligent  bee;  another  only  a  trouble- 
some gnat.  There  is  doubtless  some  truth  in  this,  but  I  have 
grown  gray  with  my  eyes  open,  and  have  often  noticed  that  a 
great  deal  depends  on  the  husband.  Such  a  man  as  you  are 
might  make  a  bee  out  of  a  gnat,  who  would  bring  honey  into 
the  house.     Of  course,  one  must  choose  carefully. "" 

"  How  can  that  be  done?"" 

"  One  should  first  know  the  parents,  and  then  the  child.  A 
girl  brouglit  up  to  good  manners,  in  the  house  of  a  sensible 
father  and  a  virtuous  mother — "' 

'*  AVhere  in  this  city  could  one  find  such  a  wonder?  No, 
no,  Lenkip2)e,  for  the  present  all  must  go  on  in  the  old  way. 
We  owe  something  to  each  other,  we  are  contented  together — "" 


'iHE   EMtEROK.  311 

"And  the  time  is  flying  away,"  broke  in  the  old  house- 
keeper.    "  You  are  thirty-five  years  okl,  and  the  girls — " 

"  Let  them  be,  they  will  find  other  husbands!  Now  send 
Cyrus  to  me  with  my  sandals  and  pallium,  and  order  my  sedan, 
for  Paulina  has  already  waited  long  enough." 

The  road  from  the  architet's  house  to  the  dwelling  of  his 
sister  was  long,  and  he  had  time  enough  to  think  over  many 
things,  but  not  over  the  advice  of  Lenkippe  to  take  a  wife. 

And  yet  the  image  of  one  female  filled  his  heart  and  thoughts 
— but  he  was  not  disposed  to  revel  in  the  vision  of  Balbilla, 
lovely  as  it  seemed — he  sought  instead  with  cruel  severity  to 
set  before  himself  whatever  in  lier  fell  below  the  highest  stand- 
ard of  womanly  perfection.  It  did  not  trouble  him  to  find 
some  faults  and  failings  in  this  Roman  girl,  and  still  he  must 
confess  to  himself  that  all  belonged  so  inseparably  to  her  char- 
acter, that  without  them  she  would  not  be  the  same  individual. 
Each  weakness  came  at  last  to  appear  to  this  man,  educated 
with  stoic  severity,  as  an  excellence. 

He  had  learned  that  sorrow  casts  its  shadow  upon  every 
man,  but  whoever  should  be  favored  to  walk  through  life  with 
this  beaming  child  of  fortune  would,  he  thought,  have  nothing 
to  anticipate  but  clear,  cheerful  sunshine. 

Upon  his  ride  to  Pelusium,  and  during  his  sojourn  there,  he 
had  often  thought  of  her,  and  each  time  her  image  stood  be- 
fore his  inward  eye  his  heart  seemed  full  of  unclouded  happi- 
ness. 

To  meet  her  was  the  greatest  joy  of  his  life,  yet  he  dared 
not  strive  to  possess  her. 

He  did  not  depreciate  himself,  and  was  justly  proud  of  the 
position  he  had  gained  throagh  his  own  industry  and  skill;  but 
she  was  a  granddaughter  of  the  man  who  had  the  right  to  sell 
his  grandfather  for  money,  and  it  would  not  have  seemed  to 
him  less  insolent  to  ask  the  emperor  for  how  much  he  would 
sell  the  purple  robe  he  wore  than  to  woo  her,  so  high-born, 
rich  and  attractive. 

But  to  protect  her,  to  caution  her,  to  refresh  himself  in  her 
look  and  her  speech — in  these  he  felt  justified,  and  no  one 
could  forbid  this  happiness.  For  she  j)erniitted  it,  she  esteemed 
him,  she  allowed  him  to  protect  her — this  he  recognized  with 
joy  and  gratitude.  He  would  instantly  have  gojie  through 
again  with  all  the  exertion  of  the  last  few  hours,  could  he  have 
been  sure  of  receiving  once  more  a  glass  of  water  from  her 
hand.  To  be  allowed  to  think  of  her  and  enjoy  her  favor, 
seemed  higher  happiness  than  the  possession  of  any  other 
woman. 


312  rK-E  EMPEROR. 

When  he  descended  from  the  sedan-chair  at  the  door  of  his 
sister's  cit}'  house,  he  shooi<  his  head,  laugliing  to  himself  in 
remembering  that  during  the  whole  long  ride  he  had  scarcely 
thought  of  anything  but  Balbilla. 

The  dwelling  of  Paulina  had  few  openings  on  the  street,  and 
those  in  the  rooms  devoted  to  purposes  of  hospitality,  and  yet 
his  arrival  had  been  noticed. 

A  window  covered  with  climbing  plants  on  the  side  wall  of 
the  house  framed  in  a  charming  head  that  looked  inquisitively 
upon  tlie  busy  scene  below. 

Pontius  did  not  see  it,  but  Arsinoe — for  she  it  was  to  wliom 
this  jiretty  head  belonged — recognized  him  instantly,  for  she 
had  often  seen  liim  on  the  Lochias,  and  Pollux  had  told  her 
that  he  was  his  friend  and  well-v/isher. 

For  a  week  she  had  lived  in  the  house  of  the  rich  widow. 
No  provision  for  her  comfort  was  wanting,  and  yet  her  whole 
soul  longed  to  go  out  into  the  city  and  search  for  Pollux  and 
his  parents,  of  whom  she  had  heard  nothing  since  the  death  of 
her  father.  Her  lover  was  certainly  seekmg  her,  with  painful 
anxiety,  but  how  could  he  find  her? 

Three  days  after  her  arrival  in  the  house  she  had  discovered 
this  little  window,  from  which  she  could  get  a  view  of  the 
street.  There  was  always  enough  to  see,  for  it  was  on  the  way 
to  the  Hippodrome,  and  constantly  alive  with  foot-passengers 
and  chariots  either  going  there  or  to  Nicopolis. 

It  was  certainly  j)leasant  to  look  at  the  fine  horses  and  the 
garlanded  men  and  youths  who  passed  the  house  of  Paulina, 
but  she  did  not  seek  the  vine-wreathed  aperture  simply  for  en- 
tertainment. No,  she  hojjed  most  of  all  to  see  some  time  her 
Pollux  go  by,  or  his  father,  his  mother,  his  brother  Teuker,  or 
some  other  acquaintance.  Then  iierhajis  she  would  be  fortu- 
nate enough  to  call  one  of  them,  and  ask  what  had  become  of 
her  friends,  and  beg  that  her  bridegroom  might  be  told  where 
to  find  her. 

Her  foster-mother  had  twice  surprised  her  at  this  window, 
and,  not  unkindly,  but  very  decidedly  foibade  her  to  look 
into  the  street.  She  had  each  time  followed  licr  back  into  the 
interior  of  the  house,  but  so  soon  as  she  knew  that  Paulina  was 
absent  from  home,  or  too  busy  to  notice  her,  she  slipped  back 
to  the  window  to  look  for  those  who  were  in  her  thoughts  every 
hour  of  the  day.  She  was  not  happy  in  the  new  and  rich  sur- 
roundings. 

At  first  it  had  seemed  very  p]('a=ant  to  strotr-h  herself  upon 
Paulina's  soft  couches — i)ul  her  hand  to  no  work — oat  dainty 
food,  and  not  1)0  obliged  to  look  after  the  children,  or  work  in 


THE  EMPEROR.  313 

the  hoj-ricl  papyrus  mill;  but  before  three  days  were  over  she 
longed  for  freedom — especially  for  the  children,  for  Selene,  and 
Pollux. 

Once  she  had  gone  out  for  a  drive  with  Paulina  in  a  covered 
reda.  At  fii-st  she  was  delighted  with  the  rapid  movement  of 
the  horses,  and  leaned  over  the  side  to  see  the  jDeople  and 
houses  fly  past;  but  Paulma  was  displeased  with  this,  as  with 
so  many  other  things  she  had  been  accustomed  to  tliink  right 
and  pro]3er,  and  commanded  her  to  draw  in  her  head,  with 
the  remark  that  well-bred  girls  should  look  into  their  laps 
while  on  a  drive. 

Her  foster-mother  was  kind,  never  passionate — treated  her 
as  though  she  were  her  own  daughter,  in  all  matter  of  dress 
and  attendance,  kissed  her  in  the  morning  and  before  she 
went  to  bed;  and  yet  Arsinoe  had  not  ^ven  thought  of  Pau- 
lina's wish  that  she  should  love  her. 

The  proud,  undemonstrative  woman,  whom  she  felt  was 
constantly  watching,  seemed  like  a  stranger  in  whose  power 
she  was.  The  finest  feelings  of  her  nature  were  and  must  be 
always  concealed  from  her.  Once,  after  Paulina,  with  moist- 
ened eyes,  had  been  telling  her  of  her  deceased  daughter,  Arsinoe 
was  softened,  and  following  the  natural  dictates  of  her  heart, 
told  her  of  her  love  for  Pollux,  and  that  she  hoped  to  be  liis 
wife. 

"  Are  you  thinking  of  a  sculptor?"  asked  Paulina,  with  as 
much  horror  as  if  she  had  encountered  a  toad.  Then  she  had 
walked  up  and  down  the  room,  and  with  her  usual  qmet  de- 
cision said: 

"  No,  my  cliild,  you  must  forget  that  as  soon  as  possible.  I 
destined  you  for  a  nobler  bridegroom.  When  you  know  Him 
you  will  desire  no  other.  Have  you  seen  a  single  work  of  art 
in  this  house?" 

'' No,"  answered  Arsinoe,  "but  so  far  as  Pollux  is  con- 
cerned— " 

"  Listen  to  me,"  said  the  widow,  interrupting  her.  "  Have 
I  not  S2:)oken  to  you  of  our  good  Father  in  heaven.  Have  I  not 
said  that  the  gods  of  the  heathen  are  imaginary  beings,  in- 
vented by  crack-brained  fools,  and  endowed  with  all  human 
Aveaknesses  and  vices?  Can  you  not  see  that  it  is  senseless  to 
pray  to  stones?  What  jiower  can  lie  in  j^erishable  figures  of 
bronze  and  marble?  We  call  them  idols.  He  who  fashions 
them  serves  them,  briiigs  sacrifice  to  them — great  sacrifice — ■ 
for  ho  puts  his  own  spirit  and  skill  into  the  labor.  Have  you 
understood  me?" 


314  THE   EMl>T:nOH, 

"  No.  Art  is  something  liigli>  Jind  Pollux  is  a  good  man, 
and  in  his  work  is  full  of  the  divinity.'' 

"  Wait  a  little  and  you  will  soon  come  to  understand/' 
Paulina  had  answered,  had  drawn  Arsinoe  toward  herself,  and 
at  fii-st  kindly,  then  in  severe  tone  said:  "  Go  now  to  your  rest 
and  implore  the  gracious  Father  in  heaven  to  enhghten  your 
heart.  You  must  forget  the  idol-maker,  and  I  forbid  your 
ever  mentioning  the  name  of  this  sculptor  in  my  presence." 

Arsinoe  had  grown  up  as  a  heathen,  and  clung  lovingly  to 
the  gods  of  her  parents,  and  hoped,  when  the  bitterness  of 
pain  in  losing  her  father  and  separathig  from  her  brothers  had 
passed,  for  days  of  joy  once  more.  She  was  little  disposed  to 
sacrifice  her  youthful  affections  and  all  earthly  jjleasures  for 
some  sj^iritual  blessings,  whose  value  she  could  not  appreciate. 

Her  father  had  always  sijoken  with  scorn  and  hatred  of  the 
Christians.  She  knew  now  that  they  could  be  kind  and 
benevolent,  and  the  doctrine  of  a  friendly  God  in  heaven,  who 
loves  His  children,  appealed  to  her,  but  that  one  should  be 
willing  to  forgive  his  enemies,  and  always  be  thinking  of  his 
sins  with  regret,  and  count  all  the  jileasures  and  enjoyments 
of  the  gay  city  of  Alexandria  as  unworthy  of  notice,  seemed 
to  her  foohsh  and  absiuxl. 

What  great  sins  had  she  committed?  Could  a  kind  God 
wish  to  destroy  all  the  happiness  of  her  life,  because  when  a 
child  she  had  stolen  a  cake,  or  broken  a  pot,  or  even  been 
sometimes  defiant  and  disobedient?     Certainly  not! 

And  ought  a  good,  true  man,  like  her  tall  Pollux,  even 
though  a  sculptor,  incur  the  wrath  of  a  fatherly  God,  be- 
cause he  knew  how  to  make  such  wonderful  things  as  the  head 
of  her  mother? 

If  that  were  really  so,  then  would  she  a  thousand  times 
rather  lift  her  hands  to  worship  the  lauglnng  Aphrodite,  the 
gay  Eros,  the  liandsome  Apollo,  and  all  the  nine  muses  who 
had  protected  her  Pollux  than  to  Him. 

A  secret  aversion  toward  the  severe  woman  whom  she  could 
not  understand,  and  whose  doctrines  and  exhortations  were 
scarcely  comprehensible,  rose  within  her;  and  many  words 
that  might  easily  have  found  lodgment  in  her  heart  she  thrust 
back,  because  they  came  through  the  mouth  of  the  woman  who 
tried  to  fasten  some  new  fetter  upon  her  freedom  with  every 
passing  horn*. 

Paulina  had  never  taken  her  to  tlie  convocation  of  Christians 
in  her  villa.  She  wished  first  to  j)re]»are  her,  and  to  open  her 
soul  for  salvation,  and  would  not  allow  herself  the  assistance 
of  any  teacher  of  the  community.     She  and  she  alone  was  to 


THE   EMPEROR.  315 

couquer  the  soul  of  tliis  beautiful  creature,  so  firmly  planted 
in  the  >vays  of  the  heathen.  This  was  part  of  the  jjact  she 
thought  herself  to  have  made  with  Him,  and  the  labor  went 
toward  the  price  by  which  she  expected  to  purchase  her  daugh- 
ter's eternal  happiness. 

Day  after  day  she  devoted  several  hours  to  the  instruction 
of  Arsinoe  in  her  own  apartment,  adorned  only  with  flowers 
and  Christian  symbols.  But  her  puj)il  seemed  each  day  more 
unimpressionable  and  absent-minded.  While  Paulina  was 
giving  instruction  she  was  thinking  of  her  Pollux,  of  her  broth- 
ers and  sisters,  of  the  festival  in  honor  of  the  emperor,  and  the 
handsome  costume  she  was  to  have  worn  as  Eoxana.  She 
wondered  what  girl  would  now  occupy  her  place,  and  how  she 
should  manage  to  find  her  lover. 

As  with  the  lessons^  so  was  it  with  the  prayers  of  Paulina, 
which  often  continued  over  an  hour,  and  which  Arisnoe  was 
obliged  to  follow,  kneeling  on  Wednesdays  and  Fridays,  and 
with  uplifted  hands  on  the  other  days  of  the  week. 
•  When  her  foster-mother  discovered  that  she  of  ten  looked  into 
the  street,  she  believed  that  she  had  found  the  reason  for  the 
absent-mindedness  of  her  ]5upil,  and  only  waited  the  return  of 
her  brother  to  have  the  window  closed  up. 

As  Pontius  entered  the  lofty  hall  of  his  sister's  house^ 
Arsinoe  came  toward  him.  Her  cheeks  were  flushed,  for  she 
had  hastened  down  as  quickly  as  possible,  in  order  to  meet  and 
speak  with  him  before  she  was  shown  into  the  room  of  Pau- 
lina. 

She  looked  prettier  than  ever.  Pontius  regarded  her  with 
pleasure.  He  knew  that  he  had  somewhere  seen  this  lovely 
face,  but  could  not  instantly  tell  where,  for  those  we  have  met 
accidentally  we  do  not  easily  recognize  in  a  place  where  there 
is  no  reason  to  anticiijate  finding  them. 

Arsinoe  did  not  give  him  time  to  speak  to  her,  for,  stepping 
directly  in  his  way,  she  said  timidly,  after  the  usual  greeting: 

"  You  do  not  know  me?" 

"  Yes,  certainly,"  answered  the  architect;  "  and  yet — " 

"  I  am  a  daughter  of  Keraunus,  the  palace  overseer  at  the 
Lochias;  but  you  know — " 

"  Certainly;  and  your  name  is  Arsinoe!  I  asked  to-day  for 
your  father,  and  heard  to  my  regret — " 

"  He  is  dead!" 

"Poor  child!  How  everything  has  changed  in  the  palace 
since  I  went  away!  The  gate-keeper's  house  has  disaj)peared, 
a  new  overseer  has  been  installed,  and  then —  But  tell  me 
first  how  you  came  here?" 


31(j  THE   EMPEROR. 

'' My  fiitlicr  k'fL  nothing,  and  the  Clirisiiuns  here  provided 
for  us/    There  were  eight  of  us. " 

"  And  does  my  sister  provide  for  you  all?" 

"  No,  no.  We  are  all  scattered  in  different  houses,  and 
never  meet. " 

AVith  these  words,  the  tears  ran  down  the  cheeks  of  Arsinoe; 
but  she  collected  herself  quickly,  saying,  before  Pontius  had 
opportunity  to  express  his  sympathy: 

"  I  want  to  ask  you  something;  let  me  sjoeak  before  any 
one  disturbs  us.^^ 

"  Speak  on,  my  child.  ^' 

"  \ou  have  known  Pollux,  the  sculptor?" 

"  Certainly.  ^^ 

"  And  were  you  not  always  his  friend?" 

"  He  is  a  brave  fellow,  and  an  excellent  sculptor." 

"  That  he  is  indeed.  And  besides —  May  I  say  all  to  you, 
and  will  you  help  me?" 

*'  Gladly,  if  it  be  in  my  power." 

Arsinoe  blushed,  and  looked  down  in  charming  embarrass- 
ment, while  she  said,  lightly: 

"  We  love  each  other;  I  am  his  bride." 

"  Eeceive  my  congratulations. " 

"  Ah,  if  it  were  not  so  far  off!  Since  the  death  of  my  fa- 
ther we  have  not  met.  I  know  not  where  he  and  his  jiarents 
are,  and  how  could  he  find  me  here?" 

"  Then  write  to  him. " 

"  That  I  can  not  do  very  well;  and  if  I  could,  my  messenger 
would — " 

"  Has  my  sister  made  inquiries?" 

"  No,  no.  I  dare  not  speak  of  him  again  to  her.  She 
.wishes  to  give  me  to  another;  she  sa3's  the  art  of  sculpture  is 
hated  by  the  God  of  the  Christians." 

"  Does  she  say  that?  Then  you  want  to  have  me  find  your 
bridegroom?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  good  sir;  and  when  you  find  him,  say  that  I  am 
alone  early  in  the  morning  and  toward  evening.  Every  day 
it  is  so.  For  at  those  hours  your  sister  attends  divine  service 
in  her  country  house. " 

"  So  you  want  to  make  me  a  lover's  messenger!  You  could 
not  have  chosen  one  more  inexperienced." 

"  Ah,  noble  Pontius,  if  you  have  a  heart — " 

"  Let  me  finish,  girl.  I  will  seek  your  ])ridegroom,  and  if  I 
find  him  he  shall  know  where  you  are;  but  I  can  not  and  will 
not  invite  him  to  meet  you  behind  my  sister's  back.  He  shall 
come  frankly  to  Paulina,  and  woo  you.     If  she  deny  your 


THE   EMPEROR.  317 

wish,  I  will  try  to  plead  your  cause  with  my  sister.  Are  you 
contented  with  this?" 

"  I  must  be.  And  will  you  not  tell  me  where  he  and  his 
2)arents  are?^' 

"  That  I  promise.  And  now  one  more  question.  Are  you 
happy  in  this  house?" 

Again  Arsinoe  looked  embarrassed  toward  the  floor,  then 
she  shook  her  head  with  an  expression  of  lively  negation,  and 
hastened  away.  Pontius  looked  after  her  compassionately  and 
with  sympathy. 

''  The  poor,  beautiful  creature,"'  he  murmured,  as  he  passed 
on  toward  the  apartment  of  his  sister. 

The  housekeeper  had  announced  his  arrival,  and  Paulina 
came  to  meet  him  at  the  threshold. 

In  her  sitting-room  Pontius  met  the  Bishop  Eumenes,  a 
venerable  old  man,  with  clear,  mild  eyes. 

"  Your  name  is  in  every  mouth  to-day,"  said  Paulina,  after 
the  usual  salutation.  "  They  say  you  have  accomphshed 
wonders  during  the  night." 

"  I  returned  home  very  tired,"  said  Pontius,  "  but  your 
message  was  so  urgent  that  I  shortened  my  time  of  rest. " 

"  How  sorry  I  am,"  cried  the  widow. 

The  bislioj)  saw  that  the  brother  and  sister  had  some  busi- 
ness to  discuss,  and  asked  if  he  would  not  disturb  them. 

"  Quite  the  contrary,"  replied  Paulina.  ''  It  is  a  matter 
connected  with  my  foster-child,  who  unfortunately  has  her 
head  full  of  nonsense.  She  tells  me  she  has  seen  you  on  the 
Lochias,  my  Pontius." 

"  I  knew  the  pretty  child." 

"  Yes,  she  is  of  lovely  exterior.  But  her  spirit  and  her 
heart  have  been  entirely  untrained,  and  the  truth  falls  upon 
her  as  into  stony  ground,  for  she  uses  every  free  hour  to  watch 
the  riders  and  cliariots  on  their  way  to  the  Hippodrome. 
Tlirough  this  idle  curiosity  she  gets  a  thousand  useless  and  dis- 
sipating ideas.  I  am  not  always  at  home,  and  think  it  best  to 
have  that  mischievous  window  walled  up. " 

"  And  did  you  call  me  for  that?"  asked  Pontius,  vexed.  "  I 
should  think  your  house-slaves  might  have  done  that  work 
without  my  assistance." 

"  Ferliaps  so,  but  the  wall  must  then  be  freshly  whitewashed. 
I  know  how  kind  you  always  are."' 

"  I  thank  you.  To-morrow  I|Will  send  two  regular  work- 
men. " 

"  Better  to-day,  if  possible." 


318  THE  EMPEROR. 

''  Must  fherc  tlien  be  such  haste  to  spoil  the  pleasure  of  the 
poor  child?" 

' '  As  to  that,  I  believe  it  is  not  so  miich  the  riders  and 
chariots  she  cares  to  sec  as  her  brave  bridegroom." 

"  So  much  the  worse.  I  must  tell  you,  Eumenes,  that  a 
sculptor  seeks  her  for  a  wife. " 

"  She  is  a  heathen,"  answered  the  bishop. 

"But  on  the  way  to  salvation,^' returned  Paulina.  "But 
we  will  speak  of  that  later.  There  is  another  thing  to  discuss 
with  you,  Pontius.  The  hall  in  my  country  house  must  be 
enlarged." 

"  Then  send  me  the  plans." 

"  They  are  in  the  library  of  my  poor  husband." 

The  architect  left  his  sister  to  go  into  the  well-known  apart- 
ment. 

As  soon  as  the  bishop  was  alone  with  Paulina,  he  said,  shak- 
ing his  head : 

"  If  I  can  judge  correctly,  my  sister,  you  are  making  a  mis- 
take in  the  training  of  the  child  intrusted  to  you.  Not  every 
one  is  called,  and  refractory  hearts  must  be  led  to  salvation 
with  a  gentle  hand,  and  not  dragged  or  jDushed  into  the  way. 
"Why  cut  off  from  this  girl,  who  stands  yet  with  both  feet  in 
the  midst  of  the  world,  all  in  which  she  finds  2)leasure?  Per- 
nit  her  to  enjoy  every  lawful  enjoyment  which  is  api>ropriate 
to  youth.  Do  not  hurt  Arsinoe  needlessly;  let  her  not  feel 
the  hand  which  leads  her.  Teach  her  first  of  all  to  love  you 
sincerely,  for,  if  she  knows  nothing  dearer  than  yourself,  a 
request  from  your  lips  will  accomi3lish  more  than  bolts  and 
walled-up  windows." 

"  T  wish  nothing  more  truly  than  that  she  love  me,"  broke 
in  Paulina. 

"  But  have  you  tried  her?  Do  you  see  in  her  the  s])ark 
which  may  be  fanned  to  a  flame?  Have  you  discovered  a  germ 
which  can  grow  into  longing  after  salvation,  to  devotion  of 
herself  to  the  Redeemer?" 

"  In  every  human  breast  there  lies  such  a  germ.  Those  are 
your  own  words." 

"  But  in  many  heathen  it  lies  deeply  buried  under  sand  and 
pebbles.  Do  you  feel  yourself  caj^able  of  clearing  these  away 
without  injury  to  the  germ  or  to  the  soil  where  it  lies?" 

"  I  do  feel  this,  and  I  shall  win  Arsinoe  for  Jesus  Clirist," 
said  Paulina,  with  decision. 

Pont'us  interrupted  the  conversation.  For  some  time  he 
remained  talking  with  his  sister  and  Euinenes  over  the  pro- 
posed improvement  in  her  country  house,  then  left  at  the  same 


THE   EMPEKOK.  319 

time  with  Eumenes,  betaking  himself  to  the  scene  of  the  late 
fire  on  the  harbor  and  to  the  old  palace. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Pontius  found  the  emperor  no  longer  on  the  Lochias,  for 
he  had  removed  in  the  afternoon  to  the  CEesarenm.  The  odor 
of  burning  through  all  the  apartments  was  repugnant  to  him, 
and  he  had  begun  to  look  upon  this  restored  palace  as  an  un- 
lucky jjlace.  He  was  impatient  for  the  arrival  of  the  architect, 
as  the  apartments  originally  arranged  for  him  in  the  Csesa- 
reum  had  been  despoiled  for  the  furnishing  of  those  on  the 
Lochias.  Pontius  must  now  take  charge  of  their  instant  re- 
arrangement. 

He  found  a  chariot  in  waiting  for  him,  and  no  lack  of  slaves, 
and  undertook  at  once  the  new  work,  devoting  all  his  energies 
to  it  until  a  late  hour  of  the  night.  Tliis  evening,  also,  he 
was  waited  for  in  vain  in  his  own  anteroom. 

Hadrian  occupied  now  a  few  rooms  belonging  to  the  apart- 
ments of  his  wife.  He  was  in  serious  mood,  and  when  the 
Prefect  Titianus  was  announced,  he  kept  him  waiting,  while 
with  his  own  hand  he  laid  a  fresh  compress  upon  the  burns  of 
his  favorite. 

"  Go  now,  sire,"'  begged  the  Bithynian,  after  the  emperor 
had  finished  his  work  with  the  skill  of  a  trained  surgeon. 
"  Titianus  has  been  pacing  the  floor  a  quarter  of  an  hour.'' 

"  That  may  be,"  answered  the  monarch;  "  and  if  the  whole 
world  cries  for  me,  it  must  wait  till  these  faithful  fingers  have 
received  due  attention.  Yes,  my  boy,  we  are  walking  together 
through  life  as  closely  united  companions.  That  others  also 
do;  and  each  who  so  goes  on  with  his  fellow,  enjoying  and 
suffering  in  common,  thinks  at  last  he  knows  his  comj)anion 
as  well  as  he  knows  himself.  Yet  the  inmost  kernel  of  the  be- 
uig  is  hidden.  Some  day  fate  sends  a  blustering  storm,  strip- 
ping off  the  last  covering  of  this  soul,  wliich  now  stands  un- 
veiled before  his  eyes,  as  the  seed  which  has  fallen  from  its 
shell,  or  as  a  naked  body.  In  this  night,  such  a  storm-wind 
has  laid  bare  the  heart  of  my  Antinous,  letting  me  see  it  as 
plainly  as  this  hand  which  I  hold  before  my  eyes.  Yes,  yes, 
yes.  He  who  hazards  his  blooming  existence  for  the  valued 
possession  of  his  friend,  would  sacrifice  a  thousand  lives  had 
they  been  his — for  his  person.  This  night,  my  friend,  will 
never  be  forgotten.  It  gives  you  a  fair  right  to  do  much  which 
is  unpleasant  to  me,  and  has  deeply  engraved  your  name  on 


330  THE   EMPEROR. 

my  lieart  as  first  among  those  to  whom  1  owe  gratitude.  There 
are  not  many  such. " 

Hadrian  lield  out  his  hand  to  Antinous,  and  the  youth,  who 
till  now  had  kept  his  eyes  on  the  ground  in  confusion,  pressed 
it  to  bis  lips  in  violent  agitation.  Then,  lifting  his  large  eyes 
to  the  emperor,  he  said: 

"  You  ought  not  to  speak  so  to  me  any  more.  For  what  is 
my  life?  I  would  let  it  fly  away  as  the  child  does  a  beetle  he 
has  caught,  if  I  might  sjiare  you  a  single  gloomy  day.^' 

"  I  know  that,^'  answered  the  monarch,  and  went  into  the 
adjoining  room  to  the  jarefect. 

Titianus  had  come  at  the  request  of  the  emperor,  and  in 
order  to  fix  a  sum  which  was  to  be  paid  to  the  city  and  the 
private  owners  of  the  burned  store-houses;  for  Hadrian  htid 
determined  to  issue  a  decree,  proclaiming  that  no  one  was  to 
sufl'er  loss  through  a  misfortune  sent  by  the  gods,  and  having 
its  origin  in  his  house.  The  prefect  had  made  out  the  neces- 
sary estimates,  and  Phlegon,  Hehdorus,  and  Celer  were  com- 
missioned to  send  documents  to  all  concerned,  demanding  in 
the  name  of  the  Ca?sar  a  correct  statement  as  to  the  amount 
of  loss.  Titianus  also  brought  Avord  that  the  Greeks  and  Jews 
had  resolved  to  express  their  joy  over  the  rescue  of  the  em- 
2?eror  through  large  thank-oll'erings. 

"  And  the  Christians?"  asked  Hadrian. 

"  They  reject  theoffering  of  animals  in  sacrifice,  but  wish  to 
unite  in  a  general  thanksgiving  prayer. ' ' 

"  They  certainly  make  their  acknowledgment  cost  little, '^ 
said  the  emperor. 

"  Their  bishop,  Eumenes,  has  brought  me  a  sum  for  which 
one  could  buy  a  hundred  oxen,  for  distribution  among  the 
poor.  He  says  the  God  of  the  Christians  is  a  spirit,  and  de- 
sires only  spiritual  sacrifices.  The  best  ofi'erings  one  can  bring 
Him  are  obedience  and  the  devotion  of  a  sincere  heart. '^ 

"That  does  not  sound  badly  for  us,"  returned  Hadrian, 
"  but  it  would  go  for  nothing  among  the  common  people. 
Philosophical  teaching  does  not  lead  to  piet3\     The  mass  of 

geople  need  visible  gods  and  tangible  sacrifices.  Are  the 
hristians  here  good  citizens  and  devoted  to  the  state?' ^ 
"  For  them  we  need  no  courts  of  justice." 
"  Then  take  their  money,  and  let  it  be  distributed  among 
the  needy;  but  I  must  forbid  their  general  meeting  for  prayei*. 
l^hey  may  continue  to  raise  their  hands  for  me  in  secret  to 
their  great  Sj^irit.  Their  doctrine  must  not  be  made  public. 
It  is  not  without  its  seductive  charm,  and  the  safety  of  the 


THE  EMPEEOK.  331 

state  requires  that  the  mass  remain  faitlif ul  to  the  old  gods 
and  sacrifices.'' 

"  As  you  command,  Cgesar." 

"  You  know  the  report  of  Phny  to  Trajan  upon  the  Chris- 
tians?" 

''  And  the  answer  of  that  emjDeror.'-' 

"  It  is  well,  then,  that  they  be  allowed  quietly  to  follow  their 
own  convictions,  only  they  must  not  make  themselves  promi- 
nent or  do  anytliing  against  the  laws  of  the  state.  So  surely 
as  they  deny  that  resjject  to  the  old  gods  which  is  their  due, 
or  lift  a  finger  against  them,  severity  must  be  practiced,  and 
each  trespass  punished  with  death." 

During  this  conversation  Verus  had  entered.  To-day  he  had 
followed  the  emperor  everywhere,  hoping  to  hear  a  word  as  to 
his  observations  of  the  sky,  and  yet  he  dared  not  ask  as  to  the 
result. 

When  he  found  Hadrian  occupied,  he  asked  a  chamberlain 
to  conduct  him  to  Antinous. 

The  youth  turned  pale  at  the  sight  of  the  pretor,  but  he  had 
self-control  enough  to  offer  congratulations  upon  Kis  birthday. 
Verus  had  not  failed  to  notice  the  effect  of  his  entrance  upon 
Antinous;  so  he  at  first  asked  indifferent  questions,  and  wove 
mirthful  anecdotes  into  his  conversation,  saying — only  after  he 
had  thus  succeeded  in  restoring  his  comjDOSure — in  a  careless 
manner: 

"  In  the  name  of  the  state,  and  all  the  friends  of  the  em- 
peror, I  must  thank  you.  You  conducted  the  affair  well, 
though  using  rather  vigorous  measures. " 

"  I  pray  you,  let  that  drop,"  broke  in  Antinous,  earnestly, 
and  with  an  anxious  glance  toward  the  door  into  the  next 
room.  "  To  preserve  the  free  spirit  of  the  emperor,  I  would 
have  sacrificed  all  Alexandria.  Beyond  that,  we  have  both 
paid  dearly  for  our  good  intentions  and  those  wretched  store- 
houses. " 

"  S^jeak  of  other  things,  then.  You  sit  therewith  bandaged 
hands  and  singed  hair,  and  I  feel  quite  unwell.  Hadrian  said 
you  assisted  bravely  at  the  rescue. 

"  I  j)itied  the  poor  marmots  whose  provision  was  being  fast 
devoured  by  the  greedy  flames;  and  heated,  as  I  came  from 
the  banquet,  I  sprung  in  among  the  rescuing  party.  My  first 
reward  was  a  bath  of  ice-cold  sea- water,  which  some  one  poured 
over  my  head  from  a  leathern  bottle.  In  me  all  teaching  of 
ethics  become  disgraced,  and  I  have  long  been  inclined  to 
count  the  dramatic  writers,  in  whose  pieces  virtue  is  rewarded 
and  vice  pimished,  as  simpletons;  for  I  owo  my  best  hours  to 


323  THE  EMPEEOR. 

my  i^oorest  deeds,  while  my  best  bring  only  vexation  and 
misery.  No  hyena  laughs  more  hoarsely  than  I  speak  to-day. 
Some*  internal  organ  seems  turned  into  a  hedge-hog,  whose 
spines  give  me  pain;  and  all  tliis  because  I  let  myself  be  carried 
on  to  do  things  which  moralists  jDraise  as  virtuous/' 

"  You  cough  and  do  not  look  well;  lay  yourself  down.'' 

''  On  my  birthday?  No,  my  young  friend.  But  now  I 
want  to  ask  you,  before  I  leave:  Can  you  tell  me  what  Had- 
rian read  in  the  stars?" 

''No." 

"  Not  even  if  I  put  my  Perseus  at  your  disjjosition  for  any 
service?  The  man  knows  Alexandria,  and  is  dumb  as  a 
fish." 

"  Not  even  then;  for  what  I  do  not  know  I  can  not  tell. 
We  are  neither  of  us  well;  I  repeat  it,  you  ought  to  take  care 
of  yourself. " 

Verus  left  soon  after  these  words,  and  Antinous  felt  relieved. 

The  visit  of  the  pretor  had  filled  him  with  imeasiness,  and 
his  repugnance  toward  the  man  increased. 

He  knew  that  Verus  had  made  him  a  tool,  for  the  emperor 
had  said  that  he  did  not  ascend  the  tower  to  read  the  stars  for 
himself,  but  to  cast  the  horoscope  of  the  jjretor,  and  that  he 
had  told  him  (Verus)  of  this  purpose.  There  was  no  excuse; 
there  could  be  no  extenuation  of  his  deed! 

Simj^ly  to  gratify  this  dissolute  coxcomb  —  this  smiling 
hyiDOcrite — he  had  become  a  traitor  to  his  lord  and  an  in- 
cendiary, and  must  bear  the  overwhelming  load  of  praise  and 
gratitude  from  the  greatest  and  most  sharp-sighted  of  men. 
He  hated,  he  abhorred  himself,  and  asked  why  the  fire  that 
blazed  around  him  had  satisfied  itself  with  injuring  his  hands 
and  hair  so  lightly. 

When  Hadrian  returned,  he  begged  permission  to  go  to  bed. 
The  emperor  granted  this  request  willingly,  bade  Mastor  watch 
beside  him,  and  went  to  answer  the  request  of  his  Avife  for  an 
interview.  Sabina  had  not  visited  the  scene  of  conflagration, 
but  had  sent  a  messenger  every  hour  to  re2)ort  to  her  the  con- 
dition of  things  and  the  Avelfare  of  her  husband.  She  had 
greeted  him  on  his  arrival  at  the  C^esareum,  and  then  retired 
to  her  own  ajjartments. 

Hadrian  found  her  rec:lining  upon  a  couch,  without  her  usual 
ornaments,  but  otherwise  dressed  as  for  a  banquet. 

"  You  wished  to  speak  with  me?"  asked  the  emperor. 

"  Yes;  ;ui(l  it  is  the  most  remarkable  event  of  a  day  so  filled 
with  extraoi'diiuiry  things  that  my  request  was  not  in  vain." 

"  You  seldom  give  me  opportunity  to  grant  «a  wish.  *' 


THE  EMPEROR.  323 

''  Are  you  surprised  at  this?" 

"  Perhaps  so,  since,  instead  of  asking,  you  usually  demand. " 

"  Let  us  drop  this  contest  of  idle  words." 

"  Gladly.     For  what  purpose  did  you  send  for  me?" 

"  Verus  is  celebrating  his  birthday." 

"  And  you  would  like  to  know  what  the  stars  foretell  for 
him?" 

"Or  still  more,  what  the  appearances  on  the  sky  dispose 
you  to  do  for  him." 

'"  I  had  little  time  to  consider  the  appearance.  At  any  rate, 
the  stars  promise  him  a  brilliant  future. " 

A  joyful  gleam  shone  in  the  eyes  of  Sabina,  but  she  con- 
straiiied  herself  to  remain  quiet,  and  asked,  tranquilly: 

"  That  you  admit,  and  yet  come  to  no  conclusion?" 

"  Then  do  you  wish  to  hear  the  decisive  word  to-day?" 

"  You  know  that  without  my  affirmation." 

"  Well,  his  star  outshines  mine,  and  warns  me  to  guard  my- 
self from  him." 

'•'  How  petty!     Do  you  fear  the  pretor?" 

"  No,  but  his  fortune  is  bound  up  with  yours." 

"  If  he  be  our  son,  his  greatness  would  also  be  ours." 

"  Should  I  make  him  what  you  wish,  he  would  attempt  to 
make  our  greatness  his.     Destiny — " 

"  You  have  said  that  was  favorable  to  him;  unfortunately, 
I  must  dispute  it." 

"  You?    Do  you  attempt  to  read  the  stars?" 

"No.  I  leave  that  to  the  men.  Have  you  heard  of  the 
astrologer  Ammonius?" 

"  Yes.  He  is  a  skillful  man,  who  takes  his  observations 
from  the  summit  of  the  Serapeum,  and  many  of  the  same 
calling  in  this  city  have  used  his  art  to  amass  a  fortune." 

"  No  less  a  person  than  the  astronomer  Claudius  Ptolema^us 
has  directed  me  to  him. " 

"  The  best  recommendation.^* 

"  Well,  then,  I  gave  Ammonius  the  commission  to  cast  the 
horoscope  of  Verus  last  night.  He  brought  it  to  me  a  little 
while  ago  with  an  explanation.     Here  it  is." 

The  emperor  quickly  seized  the  tablet  Sabina  offered,  and 
said,  while  he  looked  over  attentively  the  prognostics  arranged 
according  to  the  hours  of  their  apjjearance: 

"  That  is  quite  right!  Could  this  have  escaped  me?  Well 
done!  They  tally  exactly  with  my  own  observations!  But 
here — wait — here  the  third  hour  begins,  where  I  was  inter- 
rupted.    Eternal  gods,  what  is  this?" 

The  emperor  removed  the  wax  kiblet  of  Ammonius  further 


334  THE  EMPEROR. 

from  his  eyes,  and  did  not  move  his  lijis  again  till  he  had 
reached  the  last  hour  of  the  vanishing  night. 

Then  he  let  the  hand  holding  the  horoscope  drop,  and  cried, 
shuddering: 

"  A  horrible  destiny.  Horace  was  right  when  he  said, 
*  High  towers  fall  with  the  heaviest  crash/  " 

"  The  tower  of  which  you  are  thinking  is  that  pet  child  of 
fortune,  of  whom  you  were  afraid,''  said  Sabina.  "  Give  Verus 
a  short  space  of  hapjjiness before  the  sad  end  which  threatens.'" 

Hadrian  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  floor  during  these  words, 
and  then  answered,  standing  still  before  his  wife : 

"  If  this  man  do  not  fall  before  some  dark  misfortune,  then 
the  stars  and  the  destiny  of  human  beings  are  as  foreign  to  one 
another  as  the  sea  from  the  heart  of  the  desert,  as  the  pulse- 
beat  from  the  pebbles  of  the  brook.  If  Ammonius  has  made 
ten  errors,  there  still  remain  more  than  ten  prognostics  on 
this  tablet  which  are  hostile  and  threatening  to  the  pretor.  I 
am  sorry  for  Verus — but  the  state  has  to  suifer  the  misfort- 
unes of  the  emperor.     This  man  can  not  be  my  successor." 

"  Not?"  asked  Sabina,  and  rose  from  her  couch.  "  Not 
even  after  you  have  seen  that  your  star  will  outlast  his?  Not 
though  a  glance  at  this  tablet  will  teach  you  that  the  world 
will  obey  your  nod  long  after  he  has  turned  to  dust?" 

"  Be  quiet,  and  give  me  time;  but  now  I  say,  not  even 
then!" 

"  Not  even  then?"  answered  Sabina,  gloomily.  Then  she 
gathered  herself  up,  and  asked,  with  a  passionate  cry:  "  Not 
even  though  I  raise  my  hands  imploringly  and  cry  in  your  face: 
You  and  destiny  together  have  grudged  me  the  bliss,  the  joy, 
the  fairest  aim  of  a  woman's  life,  and  I  will,  and  I  must  attain 
it!  I  must,  and  I  will,  once — be  it  only  for  a  brief  si^ace — 
hear  myself  addressed  by  beloved  lips  with  that  title,  which 
lifts  the  poorest  beggar-wife  with  a  nursling  in  her  arms  high 
above  the  empress,  who  never  stood  beside  a  cradle.  I  will, 
and  I  must,  before  my  end,  be  a  mother,  and  be  called  moth- 
er, and  be  able  to  say,  my  child,  my  son,  our  child. " 

Sabina  sobbed  aloud  with  these  words,  and  flung  her  hands 
before  her  face. 

The  emperor  stepped  backward.  A  wonder  had  been  en- 
acted before  his  eyes.  Sabina,  in  whose  eyes  he  had  never  be- 
fore seen  a  tear — Sabina  was  weeping.  Sabina  had  a  heart 
like  other  Avomen! 

Astonished  and  deeply  moved,  he  saw  her  —  shaken  by 
mighty  agitation — turn  away  from  him,  and  sink  upon  her 


THE   EMPEROR.  325 

knees  before  the  couch  she  had  left,  in  order  to  hide  her  face 
in  the  pillows. 

He  stood  motionless  at  her  side,  but  soon  stej^ped  nearer  and 
said : 

"  Eise,  Sabina;  your  wish  is  granted.  You  shall  have  the 
son  for  whom  your  heart  longs. " 

The  emjoress  rose,  and  a  look  of  gratitude  shone  from  her 
tearful  eyes  into  his.  Sabina  coiild  smile.  She  could  also  be 
beautiful.  Such  an  hour  of  life  was  needed  to  prove  this  to 
Hadrian. 

Silently  he  drew  a  chair  forward  and  sat  down  beside  her, 
and  for  a  long  time  was  silent,  holding  her  hand  in  his  own. 
Then  giving  it  freedom,  he  said  khidly: 

"  Will  Verus  fulfill  what  you  expect  from  a  son?" 

She  nodded  affirmatively. 

"  And  what  gives  you  this  assurance?"  asked  the  emperor. 
"  He  is  a  Eoman,  and  not  lacking  in  brilliant  gifts.  A  man 
of  his  jjosition  in  council  and  in  field,  and  knowing  so  well  how 
to  jjlay  Eros,  will  not  be  dull  in  understanding  the  assumjition 
of  the  i^eople.  But  he  has  the  light  disjjosition  of  his  mother, 
and  his  heart  flutters  hither  and  thither." 

"  Let  him  be  as  he  is.  We  understand  each  other,  and  he 
is  the  only  person  upon  whose  disj)Osition  I  count  as  surely  as 
if  he  were  my  own  son." 

"  And  on  what  is  this  firm  confidence  grounded?" 

"  You  will  understand  me,  for  you  are  quick  to  perceive  the 
hints  of  destiny.     Have  you  time  to  hear  a  short  story?" 

"  The  night  is  still  long." 

"  Then  I  will  speak.  Forgive  me  if  I  begin  with  things 
which  seem  to  have  passed  away.  Yet  they  have  not,  for  they 
work  in  me  to  this  hour!  I  know  you  did  not  yourself  choose 
me  for  your  wife.  Plotina  brought  me  into  your  house.  She 
loved  you;  whether  your  devotion  to  her  belonged  to  the  beau- 
tiful woman,  or  to  the  wife  of  the  emperor,  from  whom  you 
had  everything  to  expect,  who  could  say?" 

"  I  loved  and  honored  Plotina  herself!" 

"  She  chose  in  me  a  wife  for  you,  of  tall  stature,  and  suited 
to  wear  the  jjurple,  but  not  beautifid.  She  was  acquainted 
with  me,  and  was  well  aware  that  I  understood  less  than  others 
to  win  hearts  to  myself.  E"o  child  could  have  grown  up  in 
the  house  of  its  parent^  with  less  of  love  than  1  h;'d  found; 
and  that  my  husband  did  not  accustom  me  to  tenderness,  no 
one  knows  better  than  you." 

"  I  could  in  this  moment  repent  it." 

"  It  Avould  be  too  late.     But  \  will  not  be  bitter,  certainly 


32C  THE  •EMPEKOR, 

not.  And  yet,  if  yon  will  nndcrstand  nic,  I  mnst  confess  that 
when  I  was  young  I  longed  painfully  for  the  love  no  one 
offered  me/' 

"  And  have  you  yourself  never  loved?'' 

*'  No;  but  it  hurt  me  that  I  could  not.  Wliile  with  Plotina 
I  often  met  the  children  of  her  kindred,  and  sometimes  tried 
to  attract  them  toward  myself;  but  while  they  jDlayed  familiar- 
ly with  the  other  ladies,  I  seemed  to  excite  their  aversion. 
Soon  I  came  to  return  their  ill-will;  only  the  little  son  of 
Ceionius  Commodus — ourVerus — gave  me  bright  answers  when 
I  spoke  to  him,  and  brought  his  broken  toys  for  me  to  mend. 
So  I  won  the  love  of  the  boy. " 

"  He  was  a  remarkably  sweet  boy." 

'*  That  he  was.  One  day  all  the  ladies  Avere  sitting  to- 
gether in  the  emperor's  garden.  Verus  came  running  toward 
us,  and  brought  a  remarkably  fine  apj)le,  which  Trajan  had 
given  him.  The  red-cheeked  fruit  was  admired  by  all. 
Plotina  took  it  from  his  hand,  and  asked,  jestingly,  if  be  woidd 
give  it  to  her.  He  turned  his  large  eyes  upon  her  in  sur])rise, 
shook  his  curly  head,  and  ran  toward  me,  and  gave  me — me 
and  no  other — his  apple,  flung  his  little  arms  around  my  neck, 
and  said:  '  Sabina,  you  shall  have  it.'  " 

"  A  judgment  of  Paris." 

*'  Do  not  jest  now.  This  deed  of  an  unselfish  child  strength- 
ened my  courage  to  bear  the  sorrow  of  life.  I  knew  there  was 
one  who  loved  me;  and  this  one  rewarded  me  for  all  I  felt  for 
him — and  I  was  never  weary  of  doing  for  liim — by  his  loving 
disposition.  He  is  the  only  person  that  I  feel  sure  will  shed  a 
tear  when  I  die.  Give  liim  the  right  to  call  me  mother,  and 
make  him  our  son. " 

"He  is  our  son,"  said  Hadrian,  with  earnest  dignity,  and 
held  out  his  hand  to  Sabina.  She  attempted  to  i:)ress  it  to  her 
lips,  but  he  drew  it  back  to  add: 

"  You  shall  tell  him  that  Ave  adopt  him  as  our  son.  His 
wife  is  the  daughter  of  Nigrinus,  who  had  to  fall  that  T  might 
stand  firmly.  You  do  not  love  Ijucilla,  but  we  can  l)oth  ml- 
mire  her,  for  I,  at  least,  know  no  otiier  woman  in  Kome  for 
whose  virtue  one  can  vouch;  besides,  I  OAve  her  a  father,  and 
rejoice  in  tins  daughter.  So,  then,  we  are  blessed  with  chil- 
dren. ^^'hether  and  when  I  can  name  Verus  as  my  successor, 
and  jDroclaim  to  the  Avorld  its  future  monarch,  I  can  not  noAV 
decide;  for  that,  I  need  a  more  tranquil  hour — till  to-morrow, 
Sabina.  This  day  began  in  misfortunf;  may  that  Avith  Avhich 
Ave  together  close  it  increase  our  ])rosperity. " 


THE  EMPEROR.  327 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


There  come  lovely  warm  days  in  February,  but  whoever 
fancies  they  have  brought  the  spring  will  find  himself  mistaken. 
The  harsh,  bitter  Sabina  had  tender  hours  when  womanly 
emotion  gained  mastery;  but  as  soon  as  the  longing  of  her 
softer  disposition  after  maternal  happiness  was  satisfied,  her 
heart  closed  tightly  again,  and  the  fire  which  had  warmed  it 
went  out.  All  who  approached  her — even  her  husband — felt 
as  before  chilled  and  repelled  in  her  presence. 

Verus  was  sick.  The  first  symptoms  of  a  liver  disease,  which 
the  physicians  had  predicted,  if  he,  the  European,  should  con- 
tinue his  dissolute  Roman  habits  in  the  climate  of  Alexandria, 
began  to  give  him  trouble. 

He  bore  the  first  physical  sufferings  fate  had  laid  upon  him 
with  imi^atience.  Even  the  great  tidings  Sabina  brought,  and 
which  were  the  fulfillment  of  his  boldest  hopes,  had  not  power 
to  reconcile  him  to  this  experience  of  sickness.  He  also  learned 
that  Hadrian's  fear  before  the  excessive  luster  of  his  star  had 
almost  cost  him  the  adoption;  and  since  he  firmly  believed  that 
his  malady  had  its  origin  in  the  fire  Antinous  had  kindled,  he 
bitterly  repented  his  cunning  interruption  of  the  emperor's 
calculations. 

Men  like  to  throw  the  blame  of  their  misfortunes,  especially 
those  that  grow  out  of  their  faults,  uj)on  others,  and  thus  the 
sirffering  pretor  cursed  Antinous  and  the  science  of  Simeon 
Ben  Jochai,  because  the  wicked  deed  through  which  the  pleas- 
ures of  his  life  had  been  disturbed,  without  their  assistance 
would  not  have  been  committed. 

Hadrian  had  requested  the  Alexandrians  to  jDOstpone  their 
spectacles  and  demonstrations  until  his  astrological  observations 
of  the  course  of  destiny  for  the  coming  year  were  completed. 
Every  evening  he  betook  himself  to  the  lofty  watch-tower  of 
the  Serapeum,  and  from  there  studied  the  stars.  On  the  tenth 
of  January  he  finished  Ms  work.  The  festivities  commenced 
on  the  eleventh,  and  occupied  several  days.  The  beautiful 
daughter  of  Apollodorus  the  Jew  represented  Roxana,  accord- 
ing to  the  choice  of  the  pretor.  AH  that  the  Alexandrians 
offered  the  emperor  was  brilliant  and  magnificent.  Never  be- 
fore were  so  many  ships  destroyed  in  a  mock  sea-fight,  or  so 
many  wild  animals  seen  together  on  any  occasion — even  in  the 
Roman  circus;  and  how  bloody  the  gladiatorial  contests,  in 
which  black  and  white  combatants  oflcrcd  to  heart  and  sense  a 


338  THE  EMPEKOR. 

gay  spectacle.  In  consequence  of  the  various  elements  united 
at  this  central  point  of  Egyptian,  Greek,  and  Oriental  culture, 
the  procession  oifered  such  a  feast  to  the  eye  that,  in  spite  of 
its  excessive  length,  it  was  far  less  wearisome  than  the  Romans 
anticipated. 

The  tragedies  and  comedies  introduced  were  rich  in  surpris- 
ing effects.  Conflagrations  and  floods  were  represented,  and 
gave  the  Alexandrians  opportunity  to  show  such  skill  in  the 
art  of  rei^resentation  that  Hadrian  and  his  companions  were 
forced  to  confess  them  superior  to  any  in  either  Eome  or 
Athens. 

One  piece  by  Ezekiel,  a  Jew  who  had  written  dramas  in 
Greek  under  the  Ptolemies,  the  materials  for  which  were 
drawn  from  the  history  of  his  own  people,  especially  roused 
the  admiration  of  the  emperor. 

During  these  festivities  the  Prefect  Titianus  suffered  much 
from  an  old  difficulty  of  breatlung,  and  had  his  hands  full  of 
work;  at  the  same  time  he  assisted  Pontius  in  the  search  for 
Pollux.  Both  men  did  their  best,  but  when  at  last  they  suc- 
ceeded in  finding  Doris  and  Euphorion  there  was  still  no  trace 
of  their  lost  son.  Papias,  his  former  master,  was  no  longer  in 
the  city.  Hadrian  had  sent  him  to  Italy  to  set  u])  Centaurs 
and  other  figures  at  his  own  villa  in  Tibur.  His  wife,  who  re- 
mained behind,  declared  that  she  knew  nothing  of  Pollux  be- 
yond the  fact  that  he  had  quitted  the  service  of  her  husband 
in  a  rude  manner. 

The  fellow-apprentices  of  the  unfortunate  youth  could  give 
absolutely  no  information;  for  not  one  of  them  had  been  pres- 
ent at  the  time  of  his  arrest.  Papias  had  taken  care  to  put 
the  man  he  feared  into  safe  confinement  without  witnesses. 
Neither  prefect  nor  arcliitect  looked  for  the  honest  fellow  in 
the  i^risons,  and  would  scarcely  have  found  him  had  they  done 
so,  for  he  was  not  in  Alexantlria.  The  prisons  of  the  city 
overflowed  after  the  festival  began,  and  they  removed  him  to 
Canopus,  where  he  was  tried  and  incarcerated. 

Pollux  confessed  frankly  that  he  had  taken  the  silver  quiver, 
and  had  been  greatly  incensed  by  the  accusations  of  his  mas- 
ter. Thus  he  made  in  the  outset  an  unfavorable  impression 
upon  the  magistrate;  who  knew,  moreover,  thiit  Papias  was  a 
wealthy  and  esteemed  citizen.  He  was  scarcely  allowed  a  word 
in  his  own  defense,  and  the  accusations  of  his  master,  together 
with  his  own  confessions,  hastened  the  sentence. 

To  listen  to  the  fictions  this  insolent  fellow  who — forgetting 
all  the  respect  he  owed  to  bis  employer  and  benefactor — wished 


THE   EMPEROR.  329 

to  serve  up  for  the  benefit  of  the  judge,  seemed  to  that  dig- 
nitary only  waste  of  time. 

Two  years  of  solitary  confinement^,  thought  this  guardian  of 
the  law,  would  teach  this  reckless  fellow  to  respect  the  pos- 
sessions of  other  people  and  correct  his  contemptuous  treat- 
ment of  those  to  whom  he  owed  only  gratitude  and  reverence. 
Pollux  cursed  his  fate  in  the  prison  of  Cauopus,  and  hoped  in 
vain  for  the  assistance  of  his  friends,  who,  at  last  wearied  by 
fruitless  efl'orfc,  gave  up  the  search,  and  asked  only  occasionally 
for  him.  He  at  first  so  chafed  and  fretted  under  the  im- 
prisonment that  he  was  put  into  closer  confinement,  out  of 
which  he  was  not  released  until  he — instead  of  raving — had 
sunk  into  a  stupor,  and  sjient  the  days  in  sullen  brooding. 

His  jailer,  who  had  learned  much  by  experience,  ventured 
to  predict  that  this  young  thief,  when  his  two  years  had  ex- 
pired, would  leave  the  prison  in  a  state  of  harmless  mental  de- 
bility. Titianus,  Pontius,  Balbilla,  and  even  Antinous  had  at- 
tempted to  speak  of  him  with  the  emperor,  but  each  one  met 
a  sharp  rebuff,  and  learned  that  Hadrian  would  not  forgive  an 
injury  to  his  pride  as  an  artist. 

But  the  monarch  showed  also  that  he  kept  a  true  memory 
of  the  benefits  he  received,  for  once,  as  a  dish  was  brought 
him  containing  cabbage  and  little  sausages,  he  smiled  to  him- 
self, and  taking  a  well-filled  purse  from  his  pocket,  ordered  a 
chamberlain  to  carry  it  in  his  name  to  Doris. 

The  old  pair  lived  now  in  a  little  house  near  the  residence  of 
Diotima,  their  widowed  daughter.  They  had  escaped  hunger 
and  eternal  wretchedness,  yet  a  great  change  had  passed  over 
them.  The  eyes  of  poor  Doris  were  always  red,  for  tears  had 
taken  uj?  their  abode  in  them,  and  these  ran  over  with  every 
word,  object  or  thought  wliich  reminded  her  of  Pollux,  her 
darling,  her  pride,  her  hojDC.  And  how  few  half  hours  there 
were  in  a  day  when  she  did  not  think  of  liim!  Soon  after  the 
death  of  Keraunus,  she  had  tried  to  see  Selene.  Hannah  coidd 
not  and  would  not  take  her  to  the  sick-room,  for  she  knew, 
through  Maria,  that  she  was  the  mother  of  the  faithless  lover 
of  her  nursling. 

On  a  second  visit,  Selene  showed  herself  so  reserved,  anxious, 
and  peculiar  in  her  manner  toward  Doris  that  the  old  woman 
could  but  believe  her  visit  unwelcome. 

Her  attempt  to  see  Arsinoe  had  been  still  more  unfortunate. 
Having  learned  her  residence  through  the  deaconesses,  she  an- 
nounced herself  as  mother  of  the  sculptor  Pollux,  and  was 
sent  away  with  the  message  that  she  could  not  speak  with 
Arsinoe,  and  her  visits  were  once  for  all  forbidden.     After 


330  THE  EMPEROR. 

PoiUiiis  h:ul  found  her,  and  encouraged  her  to  make  another 
attempt — witli  the  assurance  that  Arsinoe  was  faithful  to  her 
lover — she  was  met  by  Paulina  herself,  and  so  shari^ly  repulsed 
that  she  went  away  feeling  insulted,  and  returned  to  her  hus- 
band in  tears.  She  made  no  objection  when  Euphorion  for- 
bade her  ever  again  to  enter  the  house  of  the  Christian. 

The  gift  of  the  emperor  was  most  accej^table  to  these  poor 
people;  for,  after  all  the  excitement  and  the  trouble  of  the  last 
month,  Enphorion  had  lost  the  smoothness  of  his  voice,  and 
his  memory  was  shattered;  he  had  been  dismissed  from  the 
theater  choir,  and  his  only  means  of  earning  a  few  drachmas 
Avas  in  assisting  at  the  celebration  of  the  rites  of  some  small 
sects,  or  singing  marriage  and  funeral  hymns.  The  old  y>co- 
ple  had  also  their  daughter  to  support,  whom  Pollux  could  no 
longer  assist — and  the  birds,  the  Graces,  and  the  cats  must 
also  be  fed.  The  possibility  of  sending  them  away  never  once 
entered  the  thoughts  of  either  Doris  or  EujDhorion.  The"  old 
woman  was  no 'longer  mirthful  by  day — but  at  night  she  had 
many  good  hours;  for  then  Hope  painted  fair  pictures  of  the 
future,  and  beguiled  her  with  all  possible  and  impossible  visions 
that  kept  her  courage  alive.  How  often  she  fancied  Pollux 
returning  from  the  distant  city  into  which  he  perhaps  had  lied 
— Rome,  or  it  might  be  Athens — as  a  great  man,  crowned  with 
laurels,  and  rich  in  treasures! 

The  emperor,  who  still  remembered  her  kindly,  could  not 
always  be  angry.  Perhaps  some  day  he  would  send  out  mes- 
sengers to  seek  Pollux,  and,  through  large  commissions,  make 
good  all  he  had  done  to  injure  him.  She  was  sure  her  darling 
was  alive — on  that  point  she  could  not  be  mistaken,  though 
Eujihorion  tried  to  prove  to  her  that  he  was  dead.  The  old 
musician  would  relate  many  stories  of  men  who  had  been  mur- 
dered and  never  heard*  of  again,  but  she  would  not  be  per- 
suaded; she  continued  to  hope,  and  lived  in  the  purpose  of 
sending  her  younger  son,  Teuker,  so  soon  as  his  ajoprenticeship 
was  concluded — which  would  be  in  a  few  months — out  upon 
journeys  to  seek  his  dejDarted  brother. 

Antinous,  whose  burned  hands  had  healed  very  soon  under 
the  emperor's  nursing,  mourned  also  the  disappearance  of 
Pollux — for  whom  he  had  felt  a  sincerer  friendship  than  for 
any  other  youth  he  had  known — and  he  determined  to  visit 
Doris.  Rut  he  was  more  unwilling  than  ever  to  leave  his  mas- 
ter, and  followed  him  so  zealously  that  Hadrian  said  sometimes, 
playfully,  he  made  the  service  of  his  slave  superfluous. 

AVhen  he  really  had  an  hour  at  his  own  disposal,  he  pur- 
])osed  visiting  the  parents  of  his  friend,  but  between  the  pur- 


THE   EMPEEOR.  331 

pose  and  the  performance  lay  a  wide  space  that  never  would 
be  passed  over  without  some  powerfully  constraining  influence. 

It  was  such  an  influence  that  led  him — while  the  emperor 
was  disputing  in  the  Museum,  or  occupied  in  studying  the 
dogmas  of  some  religious  sect,  under  the  instruction  of  its 
leader — -to  the  country  house  where  the  month  of  February  still 
found  Selene  a  resident. 

He  ha4,  several  times  succeeded  in  stealing  into  the  garden 
of  Paulina,  but  his  ho^De  to  meet  and  speak  with  Selene  seemed 
at  first  unattainable.  Whenever  he  aijproached  the  house  of 
Hannah,  the  deformed  girl  always  met  and  told  him  of  her 
welfare,  and  then  .requested  or  commanded  him  to  leave.  She 
was  always  now  near  Selene,  for  her  mother  was  always  nursed 
by  her  sister,  and  Hannah  had  gained  permission  for  her  to 
paste  the  papyrus  leaves  at  home.  The  widow  herself  was 
compelled  to  go  to  the  factory,  for  her  office  as  overseer  made 
her  jjresence  in  the  work-room  necessary. 

So  it  happened  that  Antinous  was  always  received  and  dis- 
missed by  Maria,  and  never  by  Hannah.  Between  the  hand- 
some youth  and  the  deformed  girl,  therefore,  had  grown  up  a 
certain  mutual  understanding.  When  Antinous  a2)peared, 
and  she  cried  out  to  him:  "Again,  already?"  he  would  seize 
her  hand  and  beg  lier  earnestly  only  this  time  to  gratify  his 
wish. 

She  was  steadfast,  and  sent  him  away  without  severity,  but 
with  smiling  and  friendly  warning.  When  he  brought  out 
choice  flowers  from  beneath  his  pallium  and  implored  her  to 
give  them  to  Selene  in  the  name  of  her  friend  from  the  Lochias, 
she  would  accept,  and  promise  to  place  them  in  her  room,  but 
she  said  it  could  do  neither  him  nor  her  any  good  to  know 
from  whom  they  came. 

After  these  rebuffs,  he  understood  well  how  to  use  coaxing 
words,  but  he  never  ventured  to  defy  her  and  reach  his  end 
through  might. 

If  the  flowers  stood  in  the  room,  Maria  looked  at  them  much 
oftener  than  Selene. 

When  Antinous  did  not  appear  at  the  usual  time,  Maria  so 
longed  to  see  him  that  she  walked  uneasily  back  and  forth  from 
the  garden  gate  to  the  house  of  her  friend.  As  he  dreamed  of 
an  angel,  so  he  became  the  angel  of  her  thoughts.  She  re- 
membered the  beautiful  heathen  in  all  her  j^rayers,  and  a  mild 
comi)assion,  with  a  mixture  of  pain  over  his  lost  soul,  was  in- 
Bepai'uble  from  all  her  thoughts  of  him. 

llainiah  was  informed  of  each  visit,  and  whenever  she  spoke 
of  him  the  deaconess  was  troubled,  and  advised  her  to  threaten 


333  THE  EMPEROR. 

him  M'itli  calling  the  porter,  for  she  knew  who  this  unwearied 
admirer  of  her  nurshng  was.  Once  she  had  heard  him  speak 
with  Master,  who  used  every  free  hour  in  attending  the  relig- 
ious services  of  the  Christians,  and  she  had  asked  Master  about 
him. 

All  Alexandria,  yes,  the  whole  empire,  knew  the  name  of 
this  handsomest  youth  of  the  time,  the  celebrated  favorite  of 
the  emperor.  Hannah  also  had  heard  of  him,  and  had  learned 
that  poets  sung  his  praises,  and  heathen  women  were  eager  for 
a  look  from  his  eyes. 

She  knew  how  lawless  were  the  deeds  of  the  great  ones  from 
Kome,  and  Antinous  appeared  to  her  like  the  glittering  falcon 
that  circles  about  a  dove,  and  waits  only  a  favorable  moment 
to  jiounce  upon  and  drag  it  with  beak  and  talons  to  the  ground. 

She  knew  also  that  he  was  not  a  stranger  to  Selene — that  he 
had  rescued  her  from  the  savage  dog,  and  also  dragged  her  out 
of  the  water;  but  that  Selene  did  not  know  Avho  had  saved 
her,  she  was  convinced  from  many  of  her  words. 

In  the  latter  joart  of  February  Antinous  came  three  days  in 
succession,  and  Hannah  had  sent  strict  orders  to  the  porter, 
through  Bisho})  Eumenes,  to  look  out  for  the  young  man,  and 
prevent  his  coming  into  the  garden  by  force,  should  that  be 
necessary. 

But  Love  finds  its  way  through  locked  doors,  and  so  An- 
tinous succeeded  in  slipping  into  the  garden  again.  And  this 
time  he  saw  Selene  herself,  accompanied  by  Hannah  and  a 
beautiful,  fair-haired  boy,  as,  leaning  upon  a  crutch,  she  hob- 
bled up  and  dovrn  the  garden. 

Antinous  had  been  educated  to  look  upon  all  deformity  with 
aversion,  as  a  discord  in  the  harmony  of  creation,  and  not  a 
condition  to  be  kindly  commiserated.  Here  it  seemed  quite 
different. 

At  first  the  deformed  Maria  had  been  an  object  of  abhor- 
rence. Now  he  was  glad  to  see  her,  although  she  always 
crossed  his  wish,  and  the  lame  Selene,  behind  whom  the  street 
boys  had  cried:  "  click-clap!"  seemed  to  him  more  worthy  of 
adoration  than  ever. 

How  beautiful  her  face  and  her  figure;  and  her  peculiar  gait 
was  not  limping — no,  it  was  swaying  through  the  garden.  So 
— he  thought  afterward — might  the  Nereids  have  been  borne 
upon  the  lightly  swelling  waves. 

Love  is  satisfied  with  all  it  sees — and  that  is  not  strange, 
since  it  exalts  its  object,  with  all  belonging  to  it,  into  some 
higher  order  of  existence.  In  its  light,  weakness  becomes  virt- 
ue, and  imperfections  as  matters  of  preference. 


THE    EMPEROK.  333 

The  visits  of  the  Bithyuian  were  not  the  only  cares  of  Han- 
nah, though  the  others  were  borne  with  joy  instead  of  anxiety. 
There  had  been  an  addition  of  two  to  her  household,  and  her 
income  was  slight.  That  her  nurslings  might  not  starve,  she 
worked  with  her  own  hands  in  the  factory,  besides  overseeing 
the  girls,  and  carried  home  papyrus  leaves,  upon  which  she 
and  Maria  worked  late  into  the  night. 

When  Selene  was  well  enough  she  gladly  assisted  them,  and 
labored  dihgently;  yet  for  weeks  together  she  had  been  able  to 
do  nothing. 

Maria  looked  with  growing  anxiety  upon  the  pale  face  of 
Hannah,  and  once,  after  she  had  fallen  in  a  fainting  fit,  found 
courage  to  suggest  that  wliile  she  might  lend  the  pound  the 
Lord  had  bestowed  upon  her  to  the  usurers,  she  had  no  right 
to  squander  it.  She  allowed  herself  no  rest,  worked  both  day 
and  night,  and  used  her  hours  of  recreation,  as  she  had  always 
done,  in  visiting  the  poor  and  the  sick,  and  would  soon,  if  she 
so  continued,  instead  of  nursing  others,  require  that  attend- 
ance ujjon  herself. 

"  Give  yourself,''  said  Maria,  "  at  least  the  nightly  sleep 
you  can  not  do  without." 

"  We  must  live,"  answered  Hannah;  "  and  how  dare  I  bor- 
row what  I  may  never  be  able  to  return?" 

"  Ask  Paulina  to  remit  your  house  rent;  she  would  do  it 
gladly?" 

"  No,"  returned  Hannah,  decidedly.  "What  this  house 
yields  is  bestowed  on  my  poor,  and  you  know  how  much  they 
need  it.  What  we  give  is  lent  to  our  Lord,  and  He  taxes  no 
one  beyond  his  ability. " 

Selene  was  now  quite  well,  but  the  physician  had  said  no 
human  skill  could  ever  cure  the  lameness.  She  was  Hannah's 
daughter,  and  the  blind  Helios  had  become  the  sun  of  their 
house. 

Arsinoe  was  seldom  allowed  to  visit  her  sister,  and  only  when 
accompanied  by  her  foster-mother;  so  they  never  had  any  un- 
restrained conversation.  The  elder  daughter  of  Keraunus  was 
now  contented  and  happy— the  younger,  not  only  sorrowful  in 
the  disapj)earance  of  her  lover,  but  being  unhappy  in  the  new 
home,  had  become  irritable,  and  easily  thrown  into  fits  of 
weeping. 

The  younger  orphans  of  Keraunus  were  well  cared  for. 
They  were  often  brought  to  visit  Selene,  and  sjjoke  afl'ection- 
ately  of  their  new  parents. 

Through  the  help  of  Selene,  the  burden  of  labor  in  the 
house  of  Hannah  was  diminished^  and  about  the  first  of  March 


334  THE   EMPEROR. 

a  proposition  was  suggested  which  would  make  quite  a  change 
in  her  simple  life  should  she  accept  it. 

In  Upper  Egypt  Christiaii  fraternities  had  been  established, 
and  from  one  of  these  came  a  request  to  the  great  mother 
community  in  Alexandria  for  a  presbyter,  a  deacon,  and  a 
deaconess  capable  of  teaching  and  of  guiding  the  neophytes 
in  the  province  of  Hermopotis,  who  already  numbered  thou- 
sands. The  life  of  the  community,  the  care  of  the  poor  and 
the  sick,  needed  organization  through  skillful  hands,  and  Han- 
nah had  been  asked  to  leave  Alexandria,  and  devote  her  ener- 
gies to  more  extended  benevolences  in  Besa. 

She  was  promised  there  a  j)leasant  house  with  a  garden  of 
palm-trees,  and  gifts  from  the  community,  which  woidd  insure 
not  only  her  own  support,  but  that  of  her  adopted  children. 
Hannah  was  strongly  attached  to  Alexandria,  especially  to  the 
poor  and  the  sick,  many  of  whom  were  very  dear  to  her  heart. 
How  many  sewing-girls  she  had  been  the  means  of  saving  in 
the  factory! 

She  asked  time  for  consideration,  which  had  been  willingly 
granted.  The  decision  was  to  be  made  by  the  fifteenth  of 
March,  but  it  came  for  her  on  the  fifth,  for  while  she  was  at 
the  factory  Antinous  had  succeeded  in  again  entering  the  gar- 
den of  Paulina,  and  a  little  while  before  sunset  slijjped  close  to 
the  house  of  Hannah.  Maria  met  him  as  usual  and  tried  to 
drive  him  back  in  her  friendly  manner;  but  to-day  the  Bithyn- 
ian  was  more  excited  than  ever,  he  seized  her  hand,  and  clasjjed 
it  with  passionate  eagerness  while  he  begged  for  grace.  She 
sought  to  free  herself,  but  he  would  not  yield,  and  cried,  in 
coaxing  tones: 

*'  I  must  see  her  and  speak  with  her  to-day — only  this  once, 
dear,  good  Maria. '^ 

Before  she  could  prevent  it,  he  had  pressed  a  kiss  upon  her 
forehead,  and  hastened  into  the  house  to  Selene. 

Maria  scarcely  knew  what  had  transpired.  Bewildered  and 
enfeebled  by  conflict  of  feelings,  she  stood  looking  with  t^hame 
on  the  ground,  knowing  that  something  unheard  of  had  hap- 
pened, but  so  dazzled  by  the  light  this  something  had  spread 
around  her,  something  to  herself,  to  the  jioor  Maria,  that  a 
strange,  new  feeling  of  pride  was  mingled  with  the  shame  and 
indignation.  She  needed  a  few  moments  to  recover  herself 
and  to  regain  a  consciousness  of  her  duty,  and  these  moments 
Antinous  used  to  his  own  advantage.  Witli  long  strides  he 
hastened  toward  the  room  into  which  he  had  borne  Selene,  and 
laid  her  upon  tlie  bed  on  that  night  which  he  coidd  never  for- 
get, and  called  her  name  while  yet  on  the  threshold. 


THE   EMPEROR.  335 

She  was  frightened  and  laid  aside  the  book  from  which  she 
was  reading  to  her  blmd  brother.  He  called  agam  in  a  be- 
seeching tone.     Selene  recognized  him,  and  asked,  quietly: 

"  Are  you  looking  for  me  or  for  Hannah?" 

"  You,  you,"  he  cried,  passionately.  "  Oh,  Selene,  since 
the  night  I  drew  you  out  of  the  water,  I  can  not  cease  thinking 
of  you,  and  must  die  with  love  for  you.  Have  your  thoughts 
never,  never  met  mine  on  the  way  to  you?  Are  you  always  so 
cold  and  motionless  as  then,  wdien  you  belonged  half  to  life  aiid 
half  to  death?  As  the  shades  of  the  dejDarted  encom2iass  the 
place  which  contains  all  they  love  on  earth,  so,  for  months,  I 
have  wandered  about  this  house,  and  never  once  succeeded  in 
telling  you  what  I  feel."  With  these  w'ords  the  youth  threw 
himself  down  before  her  and  tried  to  clasp  her  knees;  but  she 
said,  reproachfully: 

"  What  does  all  this  mean?  Stand  up,  and  control  your- 
self." 

"  Oh,  let  me  stay,"  he  begged.  "  Be  not  so  hard,  so  cold; 
have  compassion,  and  do  not  drive  me  away  from  you!" 

"Stand  up!"  repeated  the  girL  "I  am  not  angry,  fori 
owe  you  gratitude." 

He  rose  slowly  and  said,  in  a  low  tone : 

"  It  is  not  gratitude,  but  a  little  love  that  I  crave." 

"  I  try  to  love  all,"  answered  the  young  Christian,  "  and  so 
I  love  you  also.     You  have  show^n  me  much  kindness." 

"  Selene!  Selene!"  he  cried  out  joyfully,  threw  himself 
again  down  before  her,  and  seized  her  hand  passionately.  But 
scarcely  had  he  taken  it  into  his  own,  when  Maria  burst  into 
the  room,  flushed  with  excitement,  and  in  a  husky  voice  ex- 
pressed displeasure  and  wrath,  commanded  him  instantly  to 
leave  the  house,  and,  as  he  sought  again  to  besiege  her  with 
importunities,  she  cried: 

"  If  you  do  not  obey  me  I  shall  ask  the  help  of  the  men 
yonder  who  are  attending  to  the  flowers.  I  ask  again:  will 
you  obey  or  not?" 

"  Wiiy  are  you  so  cross,  Maria?"  asked  the  blind  Helios. 
*'  This  is  a  good  man,  and  he  just  told  Selene  he  loved  her." 

Antinous  pointed  toward  the  boy  with  an  imploring  gesture, 
but  Maria  was  at  the  window,  ready  to  call. 

"Let  be,"  cried  Antinous.  "I  am  going,"  and  walked 
slowly  and  silently  toward  the  door,  looking  once  more  toward 
Selene  with  passionate  devotion. 

Then  he  left  the  room,  groaning  with  shame  and  disappoint- 
ment, yet  joyful  and  proud,  as  though  he  had  accomplished  a 
great  deed. 


300  THE    EMl'F;i{On. 

Hannali  met  him  in  the  garden  and  liastened  her  .'•■(eps 
toward  tlie  house,  where  she  found  Maria  in  tears  and  cliokiiig 
with  sobs,  and  soon  heard  of  all  that  had  happened  during  ht-r 
absence. 

An  hour  later  she  informed  the  bishop  that  she  would  accei)t 
the  call  of  the  community  at  Besa,  and  was  ready  to  go  at  once 
to  Upper  Egypt. 

"  With  your  wards?"  asked  Eumenes. 

"  Yes.  It  has  been  indeed  the  earnest  wish  of  Selene  to  be 
baptized  by  you,  but  since  a  year  of  iiistruction  is  necessary — " 

"  I  will  perform  the  sacred  rite  to-morrow." 

"  To-morrow,  my  father?" 

"  Yes,  sister.  I  do  it  with  confidence.  She  left  her  old 
nature  in  the  sea,  and  before  we  became  her  teachers  she  had 
gone  through  the  school  of  life.  Even  while  a  heathen,  she 
had  taiien  up  her  cross  and  borne  it  as  faithfully  as  if  a  believer 
in  the  Lord.  The  faith,  love,  hope  which  M^ere  wanting 
she  has  found  in  your  house.  In  the  name  of  our  Saviour,  I 
thank  you  for  this  soul,  my  sister.'" 

"  Not  me,  not  me,"  begged  the  widow.  "  Her  heart  Avas 
benumbed,  and  not  I,  but  the  ardent  faith  of  the  blind  boy 
softened  it. " 

' '  She  owes  her  salvation  to  you  both, "  answered  the  bishop. 
*'  And  we  will  baj)tize  both  at  the  same  time.  The  lovely 
child  shall  take  the  name  of  the  fairest  among  the  disciples. 
We  will  call  him  '  John. '  Selene  shall  in  future  bear  the 
name  '  Martha, '  if  it  be  agreeable  to  her. ' ' 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Selene  and  Helios  received  baptism,  and  two  days  later, 
Hannah,  her  adopted  children  and  Maria,  accompanied  by 
Hilarion,  a  presbyter  and  a  deacon,  embarked  on  a  Is'ile  shi]) 
in  the  harbor  of  Lake  Mareotis,  which  would  carry  them  to 
the  city  of  Besa,  in  Upper  Egypt,  their  future  home.  Maria 
had  hesitated  about  joining  the  party.  Her  old  mother  lived 
in  Alexandria — and  then — but  it  was  this  "  then  "  which  en- 
abled her  to  cut  off  sharply  all  consideration,  and  utter  a  de- 
cisive "  yes,"  for  it  referred  to  Antinous.  For  a  few  moments 
the  thought  was  intolerable  of  never  seeing  him  again — for  she 
had  thought  so  often  of  this  handsome  youth — and  yet  her 
whole  heart  ought  to  belong  to  Him  wlio  luid  purchased,  with 
His  own  blood,  her  peace  here  and  her  Ijlessedness  hereafter. 

Selene  had  gone  on  the  day  after  her  baiiii.sm  to  the  city 
house  of  Paulina,  and  with  many  tears  taken  leave  of  Arsinoe. 


THE  EMMROS.  S^t 

All  the  love  wliich  really  united  these  sisters  came  to  exj)rcs- 
sion  in  the  hour  of  their  sejoaration.  Selene  had  heard,  through 
Paulina,  that  Pollux  was  dead,  and  no  longer  bore  ill-will 
toward  the  rival  wlio  bewailed  his  loss  more  passionately  than 
she.  Earlier  the  j^eace  of  her  soul  had  been  disturbed  by  the 
memory  of  this  j^laj^'ellow. 

The  separation  from  Alexandria,  where  most  of  her  brothers 
and  sisters  remained,  was  painful,  and  still  she  rejoiced  in  the 
anticijDation  of  her  distant  home,  which  was  to  be  the  theater 
where  her  newly  consecrated  energies  would  find  exercise.  She 
was  no  longer  the  same  person  she  had  been  only  a  few  months 
before. 

Eumenes  and  Hannah  were  right.  It  was  the  blind  boy, 
and  not  the  widow,  who  had  won  her  to  Christianity.  This 
influence  of  the  child  had  a  singular  source.  The  promise  of 
Master  that  Helios  would  one  day  meet  his  father  again  in  a 
shining  heaven,  among  lovely  angels,  had  worked  powerfully 
upon  the  lively  imagination  and  tender  heart  of  the  blind  boy. 
In  the  house  of  Hannah  this  hope  found  fresh  nourishment, 
for  both  she  and  Maria  often  told  him  of  the  dear,  kind  God 
and  His  Son,  who  loved  children,  and  invited  them  to  Him- 
self. When  Selene  was  better,  and  he  was  permitted  to  talk 
with  her,  he  told  her  with  great  delight  of  all  the  women  had 
told  him;  but  at  first  his  sister  found  no  pleasure  in  these 
wonderful  fabrications,  and  tried  to  shake  his  faith  in  them  and 
lead  him  back  to  the  old  gods.  But  while  trying  to  lead  the 
child,  she  felt  herself  more  and  more  constrained  to  follow  in 
the  same  path.  For  awhile  she  went  forward  with  uncertain 
steps,  but  the  example  and  the  many  wise  words  of  Hannah 
proved  a  support.  She  attempted  no  doctrinal  instruction  ex- 
cejit  when  Selene  asked  for  it  and  for  its  explanation.  All 
about  her  was  an  atmosphere  of  love  and  jseace,  which  the  boy 
felt  and  spoke  of,  and  constrained  her  to  recognize,  and  in  his 
own  j^erson  offered  her  the  first  inducement  to  exercise  the 
newly  awakened  longing  to  prove  herself  loving.  The  firm 
faith  of  the  child,  which  she  could  not  shake  by  any  reasoning 
or  by  any  of  the  m3rths  she  knew,  touched  her  deeply  and  led 
her  to  ask  Hannah  the  meaning  of  this  or  that  assertion  of  the 
boy.  It  had  been  a  pleasant  thought  to  her  that  death  would 
end  this  miserable  existence;  but  Helios  left  her  without  reply, 
when  he  said,  sadly: 

' '  Have  you,  then,  no  longing  to  see  father  and  mother 
again?" 

To  see  her  mother  again !  That  thought  made  her  curious 
about  the  other  world,  and  Hannah  fanned  this  spark  of  inter- 


338  THE  EMPEnoH. 

est  to  a  flame.  Selene  had  seen  and  felt  much  misery,  and 
was  accustomed  to  call  the  gods  cruel.  Helios  told  her  God 
and  Jesus  were  good,  and  loved  men  as  their  own  children. 

"  Was  it  not  kind,''  he  asked,  "  that  the  Heavenlj  Father 
led  us  to  Hannah?" 

"  Yes;  but  they  have  torn  us  from  one  another,''  answered 
Selene. 

"  Nevermind,"  returned  the  child,  confidently;  "  in  heaven 
we  shall  all  meet  again." 

As  Selene  recovered,  she  wished  to  know  about  each  one  of  the 
children,  and  Hannah  described  all  the  families  in  which  they 
had  found  homes.  Hannah  seemed  honest,  and  the  children 
themselves  confirmed  all  she  said,  in  their  visits,  and  3^et  Selene 
found  it  hard  to  believe  the  descrij^tion  of  then*  life  in  the 
homes  of  the  Christians. 

The  mothers,  said  one  of  the  promment  teachers  in  the 
Church,  are  the  jjride  of  the  children,  the  wife  the  pride  of  her 
husband,  both  husband  and  children  the  pride  of  the  wife,  and 
God  the  pride  and  glory  of  all  the  family.  Love  and  faith 
were  really  the  band,  j^eace  and  virtuous  life  the  law,  of  the 
Christian  family;  and  under  such  j)ure  and  salutary  influences 
as  Selene  and  Helios  found  in  the  house  of  Hannah,  were  all 
the  little  brothers  and  sisters  growing  up !  Her  good  sense  an- 
swered the  question,  what  would  have  become  of  them  all  had 
her  father  lived  and  been  turned  out  of  his  oflice.  The}'  would 
have  been  plunged  into  misery  and  disgrace.  And  now?  Per- 
haps Providence  had  acted  kindly  toward  the  children. 

Love,  only  love,  was  the  atmosphere  she  breathed,  and  yet  it 
was  love  which  had  jJrejDared  for  her  the  most  cruel  sufferings. 
Why  had  so  much  sorrow  come  to  her  through  an  emotion 
which  beautified  the  lives  of  others?  Had  any  other  person 
suffered  as  she  had?  Most  certainly!  A  gay  youth  had  de- 
ceived her,  and  made  her  sister  happy  instead  of  herself.  That 
had  been  hard  to  bear;  but  the  Saviour,  of  whom  Helios  told 
her,  had  been  much  more  severely  tried.  Those  whom  He, 
the  Son  of  God,  had  come  down  to  the  earth  to  deliver  from 
sin  and  misery,  hfid  rewarded  His  kindness  by  crucifying  Him. 
She  recognized  in  Him  a  fellow-suff'erer,  and  asked  Hannah  to 
tell  her  of  Him. 

Selene  had  made  many  sacrifices  for  her  family,  and  her  last 
walk  to  the  jiapyrus  mill  could  not  be  forgotten — but  He  had 
let  Himself  be  scorned,  and  had  poured  out  His  blood  for  His 
own.     And  who  was  she? — who  the  Son  of  (lod? 

His  image  became  dear  to  her;  she  was  never  tired  of  hear- 
ing the  story  of  His  life.  His  words,  and  deeds,  and  so  gradu- 


THE   EMPEROR.  339 

ally  came  the  day  when  her  soul  was  prepared  to  receive  the 
doctrines  of  Christ  with  earnest  longing. 

With  faith  in  Him  came  also  the  consciousness  of  guilt  which 
heretofore  had  been  unknown  to  her. 

She  had  labored  through  pride  and  fear — never  from  love — 
the  sacred  gift  of  life  she  tried  to  cast  away,  from  selfish 
motives — without  asking  what  would  become  of  those  for 
whom  it  was  her  duty  to  care.  She  had  cursed  the  lovely  sis- 
ter who  needed  her  protection  and  her  blessing,  as  well  as  Pol- 
lux, the  i^laymate  of  her  cliildhood,  and  countless  times  blas- 
jjhemed  the  director  of  human  affairs. 

All  this  she  now  recognized  with  pain,  but  she  was  deeply 
touched  to  know  that  there  was  One  who  had  come  to  redeem 
the  world,  and  had  taken  uj^on  Himself  the  guilt  of  every 
penitent  shnier. 

When  Selene  expressed  to  Hannah  her  wish  to  become  a 
Chiistian,  she  led  her  to  the  bishop  Eumenes.  He  undertook 
the  task  of  instruction — and  found  in  her  an  eager  puj^il. 
Like  those  gray  and  dried-uj?  flowers  which  are  quickened  to 
fresh  bloom  when  laid  in  the  water,  so  tliis  long-withered  heart 
was  revived. 

She  longed  for  full  recovery  to  health  that,  hke  Hannah, 
she  might  nurse  the  sick,  and  render  those  offices  of  love  which. 
Christ  desires  in  His  followers. 

Thus  it  was  in  the  new  faith  which  gave  her  special  joy — 
that  His  promise  of  blessing  was  not  to  the  rich  who  were  able 
to  bring  large  offerings — but  to  the  penitent,  longing  for  for- 
giveness—to the  poor  and  the  needy,  of  whom  she  thought  as 
belonging  to  her  own  family. 

Her  active  nature  was  not  satisfied  with  thinking,  and  longed 
to  express  itself  in  action.  In  Besa,  she  would  be  allowed  to 
work  with  Hamiah,  and  this  anticipation  made  the  parting 
with  Alexandria  much  easier.  A  favorable  wind  bore  the 
travelers  southward  and  in  prosperity  to  their  destination. 

Two  days  after  their  departure  Antinous  again  found  admit- 
tance into  the  garden  of  Paulina,  but,  as  he  approached  the 
little  house,  looked  in  vain  for  Maria.  Her  absence  ought  to 
have  pleased  him,  and  yet  he  was  disturbed  by  it. 

The  way  Avas  free,  and  perhu^js  this  time — so  said  his  agi- 
tated heart — he  might  find  Selene  alone. 

He  ojiened  the  door  without  knocking,  but  did  not  venture 
to  cross  the  threshold,  for  in  the  front  room  stood  a  strange 
man,  placing  shelves  against  the  wall.  The  joiner,  a  Christian 
to  whom  Paulina  had  rented  the  house  for  the  use  of  his  fam- 
ily, asked  the  wish  of  Autinous. 


340  THE   EMPEROR. 

"  Is  Hannah  at  home?"  he  stammered. 

*'  She  hvcs  here  no  longer." 

"  And  her  foster-daughter,  Selene?" 

"  Has  gone  with  her  to  Upper  Egypt.  Have  you  any  mes- 
sages for  her?" 

"  Ko/'  answered  the  youth  in  surprise.  "  When  did  they 
leave?" 

"  Day  before  yesterday." 

"  And  do  they  not  return?" 

"  Certainly  not  for  the  next  few  years;  later,  perhaps,  if  the 
Lord  will." 

Antinous  left  the  garden  by  way  of  the  broad  middle  path 
undisturbed.  He  looked  pale,  and  seemed  like  a  traveler  in 
the  desert  who  has  found  the  sjDring  choked  up  where  he  had 
lioped  to  quench  his  thirst. 

In  the  first  free  hour  of  the  following  day  the  youth  knocked 
again  on  the  door  of  the  cabinet-maker,  to  mquire  at  what  spot 
in  Upper  Egypt  the  travelers  expected  to  locate. 

"  In  Besa,"  answered  the  mechanic,  frankly. 

Antinous  had  always  been  a  dreamer,  but  Hadrian  had  never 
seen  him  so  absent-minded,  so  devoid  of  life,  as  at  tliis  time. 
When  he  tried  to  rouse  and  stimulate  him  to  something  fresher, 
Antinous  would  raise  his  e5^es  imploringly  and  try  Avith  all  his 
might  to  do  what  he  wished  and  to  wear  a  brighter  face,  but 
quickly  relapsed  into  the  foi-mer  mood. 

Even  upon  a  hunt  in  the  Libyan  forest,  where  the  emperor 
sometimes  took  him,  Antinous  was  indolent  and  unsympathetic 
in  the  pleasure  of  the  free  sport  he  usually  shared  with  so 
much  of  joy  and  skill. 

The  emperor  had  remained  in  Alexandria  longer  than  in 
most  places,  and  Avas  becoming  weary  of  the  festivities  and 
hospitalities,  the  disputations  in  the  Museum,  of  intercourse 
with  eccentric  mystics,  soothsayers,  astrologers,  and  charlatans, 
with  Avhich  the  city  swarmed.  Also  the  brief  audiences  grant- 
ed to  the  leaders  of  various  religious  associations,  the  visits  to 
factories  and  workshoj)s  of  tliis  driving  place,  began  to  exhaust 
him. 

One  day  he  expressed  a  wish  to  visit  the  southern  provinces 
of  the  Nile  valley.  The  priests  of  the  native  Egyptian  gods 
had  asked  this  favor  of  him,  and  not  only  his  own  curiosity 
and  love  of  travel  but  various  state  reasons  j^rompted  him  to 
grant  the  request  of  this  influential  hierarchy.  The  thought 
of  seeing  with  his  own  eyes  the  wonders  of  the  times  of  the 
^'luiraohs,  Avhich  attracted  so  many  travelers,  Avas  an  induce- 


THE  EMPEROR.  3il 

ment,  and  when  lie  perceived  the  lively  interest  of  Antinous  in 
the  plan,  his  determination  was  made. 

This  was  the  only  thing  in  which  his  favorite  had  shown  any 
interest  for  weeks.  Those  attentions  lavished  upon  him  by 
the  Alexandrian  ladies  of  gentle  birth,  no  less  than  those  of 
Eome,  disgusted  him.  At  their  banquets  he  was  a  silent  guest, 
whose  presence  could  give  pleasure  to  no  one. 

Even  the  brilhant  and  exciting  spectacles  in  the  circus,  and 
the  finest  races  and  contests  in  the  Hipj)odrome  scarcely 
caused  liim  to  lift  his  eyes. 

Formerly,  he  had  followed  with  attention  and  joleasure  the 
plays  of  Menander  and  his  imitators,  Alexis,  Apollodorus  and 
Posidippus;  but  now,  when  they  were  introduced,  he  stared 
into  vacancy  and  thought  of  Selene. 

The  prospect  of  visiting  the  jjlace  where  she  now  was  revived 
him  and  quickened  anew  his  expiring  courage.  He  hoped 
again,  and  whoever  sees  light  in  the  future,  finds  the  present 
no  longer  totally  dark. 

Hadrian  rejoiced  to  see  this  change  in  his  favorite,  and 
hastened  his  preparations  for  departure.  Yet  months  passed 
before  he  was  able  to  begin  the  journey. 

At  first  he  was  occupied  with  the  care  of  colonizing  Libya 
anew,  which  had  been  depopulated  by  Jewish  seditions.  Then 
there  were  new  destinatio]is  of  post-routes  to  be  arranged, 
which  would  bring  different  parts  of  the  empire  nearer  to- 
gether; and,  finally,  the  formal  consent  of  the  senate  to  reso- 
lutions respecting  the  inherited  rights  of  citizenship  must  be 
waited  for. 

Their  consent  was  certain,  but  the  emperor  published  no 
edict  without  that,  and  much  de23ended  on  a  vigorous  execu- 
tion of  this  order.  In  his  visits  at  the  Museum,  Pladrian  had 
learned  much  respecting  the  condition  of  the  individual  mem- 
bers of  the  same,  and  worked  toward  the  institution  of  ordi- 
nances which  would  deliver  them  from  the  cares  of  life. 

He  turned  his  attention  also  to  the  destiny  of  the  aged 
teachers  and  educators,  and  tried  to  improve  it. 

When  Sabina  represented  to  him  how  large  an  outlay  would 
be  necessary  to  accomjolish  all  this,  he  replied: 

"  We  do  not  let  the  veterans  starve  who  have  devoted  their 
bodies  to  the  service  of  the  state.  Why  should  we  not  also 
take  care  of  those  who  have  served  it  with  their  intellects? 
Which  should  we  rank  higher,  might  and  joossession,  or 
spiritual  capacity?  The  more  difficult  this  question  to  me,  as 
emperor,  so  much  tlie  more  do  I  feel  under  obligation  to  pro- 
vide alike  lor  old  officers,  soldiers  and  teachers." 


342  THE   EMPEROR. 

The  Alexandrians  detained  Hadrian  also  by  many  ne;v 
offerings  of  rcsi)ect.  They  raised  him  to  tlie  rank  of  divinity, 
consecrated  a  temple  to  him,  and  ordtiined  now  festivals  in  Lis 
honor,  not  alone  to  win  his  favor  toward  tlieir  city,  and  to  ex- 
press their  joy  and  pride  in  his  long  visit,  bnt  gladly  used  this 
favorable  oi^portunity  to  gratify  themselves  and  to  revel  in 
special  pleasures. 

So  this  imperial  visit  swallowed  up  many  millions,  and 
Hadrian,  who  took  pains  to  learn  the  amount  expended, 
blamed  the  indiscretion  of  his  extravagant  hosts. 

Yet  full  of  appreciation,  he  afterward  wrote  to  his  brother- 
in-law,  Servianus,  respecting  the  wealth  and  energetic  activity 
of  the  Alexandrians.  He  praised  them  in  this:  that  none 
among  them  all  was  idle.  This  one  made  glass,  that  one 
paper,  another  Imeu;  and  each  one  of  these  restless  men  boast- 
ed of  putting  his  own  hand  to  his  ^vork.  Even  the  gouty,  the 
blind,  and  the  disabled,  found  employment.  Nevertheless,  he 
called  them  an  unmanageable  peoi^le,  frivolous,  and  possessing 
sharp,  mischief-making  tongues,  which  had  spared  neither 
Verus  nor  Antinous.  Jew^s,  Christians,  and  devotees  of  Ser- 
apis,  he  says,  in  tlie  same  document,  worshiped  one  God  alone, 
instead  of  the  Olympian  divinities;  and  if  he  also  asserted  that 
the  Christians  paid  homage  to  Serapis,  he  meant  that  they 
held  the  doctrine  of  the  continued  existence  of  the  soul  after 
death. 

The  dispute  as  to  the  place  where  the  newly  found  Apis 
should  reside,  also  gave  Hadrian  much  to  do. 

From  time  immemorial,  the  Temple  of  Ptah,  in  Memphis, 
had  been  devoted  to  the  care  of  the  sacred  bull;  but  this  ven- 
erable city  of  the  Pyramids  had  been  outstripped  by  Alexan- 
dria, and  the  Temple  of  Serapis,  in  the  latter  place,  surpassed 
tenfold  in  size  and  brilliancy  that  in  the  province  of  Sokari. 

The  Alexandrian  Egyptians,  who  dwelt  in  the  quarter 
known  as  Rhacotis,  near  the  Serapeum,  desired  this  god,  who 
walked  the  earth  in  the  form  of  a  bull,  in  their  midst;  but  the 
people  of  Memphis  would  not  relinquish  their  old  claim,  and  it 
was  not  easy  for  the  emperor  to  bring  this  deeply  exciting  con- 
test to  a  satisfactory  issue. 

But  Memphis  kept  her  Apis,  and  the  Serapeum  in  Alexandria 
received  gifts  that  had  formerly  been  bestowed  only  on  Mem- 
phis. 

In  June  the  emperor  was  at  last  ready  to  start.  He  wished 
to  go  through  the  provinces  afoot  or  on  horsebai'k,  and  S;ibiua 
was  to  follow  in  a  ship,  after  the  annual  Hooding  of  the  ISile. 

The  empress  would  gladly  have  returned  to  Rome  or  Tibur, 


THE   EMPEROR.  343 

for  Verus  had  been  ordered  by  his  physician  to  leave  Egypt 
when  the  summer  heats  came  on. 

He  departed  with  his  wife  as  the  acknowledged  son  of  the 
imperial  pair;  but  no  word  of  Hadrian  justified  him  in  the 
confident  hope  of  being  named  his  successor  to  the  imperial 
dignity.  The  inordinate  longing  for  enjoyment  of  this  disso- 
lute man  was  disturbed,  but  not  broken  off,  by  his  physical 
suffering,  and  in  Kome  he  continued  to  taste  all  the  pleasures 
of  life. 

Hadrian's  delay  in  this  matter  was  an  annoyance,  for  the 
imperial  sphinx  had  only  too  often  given  a  very  unexpected 
solution  of  its  own  riddles.  The  sad  end  prophesied  for  him 
caused  little  anxiety;  indeed,  the  prognostic  of  Ben  Jochai  only 
stimulated  him  to  enjoy  to  the  full  each  hour  of  good  health 
that  destiny  granted. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Balbilla  and  her  companion  Claudia,  Publius  Balbillus. 
and  other  Romans  of  rank,  the  sophist  Favorinus,  and  a  crowd 
of  chamberlains  and  servants,  were  to  accompany  the  empress 
upon  a  ship,  while  only  a  small  company  made  the  land  jour- 
ney with  Hadrian,  who  took  also  a  stately  hunting  horse. 

]3efore  they  reached  Memphis,  he  had  killed  a  few  lions  and 
other  beasts  of  j)rey,  and  found  Antiuous  once  more  the  best 
of  companions,  cold-blooded  in  danger,  robust  for  travel, 
easily  contented,  and  ready  in  every  emergency,  he  seemed  to 
his  master  as  a  comjoanion  created  by  the  gods  esjDecially  for 
his  own  delight.  If  Hadrian,  for  hours  or  days  together,  was 
silent  and  reflective,  Antinous  never  disturbed  him  by  a  word ; 
but  his  presence  at  such  times  was  a  blessing,  for  the  conscious- 
ness that  he  was  near  was  a  satisfaction  to  the  emperor. 

The  expedition  was  also  good  for  Antinous,  for  he  perceived 
that  he  was  of  use  to  his  honored  lord,  and  in  this  way  the 
burden  was  diminished  which  had  oppressed  him  since  his  deed 
of  mischief  on  the  Lochias.  He  had  always  preferred  dream- 
ing to  talking,  and  their  fresh  movements  preserved  him  from 
lassitude. 

In  Memjihis,  Hadrian  was  detained  a  month,  where  it  was 
necessary  to  visit  the  temple  of  the  gods  accompanied  by  Sa- 
bina,  whose  ship  had  an-ived  before  him,  and  go  through  inany 
ceremonies  in  the  attire  of  the  Pharaohs. 

Sabina  often  felt  that  she  sliould  ptM-ish,  when,  as  mistress 
of  tlie  Nile  A'alley,  and  adorned  with  the  great  viiltui'o's  lioad 
finery,  in  a  long  garment  overlaid  witli  ornaments  of  gold,  she 


344  THE  KMPEROn. 

was  conducted  at  the  side  of  hor  husband  in  a  procession 
through  all  the  vast  spaces,  over  the  rooJ",  and  at  last  into  the 
lioliest  places  of  the  sanctuary.  These  circuitous  promenades, 
and  the  man)'  sacrifices  they  were  obliged  to  witness^  seemed 
to  her  absurd  formalities.  And  when  she  returned  from  these 
ceremonials  she  seemed  exhausted  to  the  last  degree,  and  in- 
deed it  was  no  light  matter  to  go  thi-ough  with  all  the  fumiga- 
tions and  sprinklings,  to  listen  to  such  long  hymns  and  litanies, 
to  walk  through  all  the  wide  spaces;  and  when  exalted  upon 
the  throne  as  divinities,  to  be  adorned  with  so  many  various 
crowns,  and  arrayed  with  every  sort  of  fillet  and  symbol. 

Her  husband  set  her  a  good  example,  for  the  Avhole  serious 
majesty  of  his  nature  came  into  view  at  these  ceremonies. 
He  found  pleasure  in  the  mystical  wisdom  of  the  priests,  with 
whom  he  had  long  and  familiar  interviews. 

As  at  Memphis,  and  so  the  imperial  jiair  received  the  hom- 
age of  the  hierarchy  in  all  the  chief  temples  of  the  cities  hnng 
further  south.  Wherever  Hadrian  furnished  means  for  the 
enlargement  of  a  sanctuary,  he  must  conduct  the  ceremony  of 
laying  the  corner-stone  with  his  own  hand. 

With  all  this,  he  found  time  to  hunt  in  the  wilderness,  to 
discharge  state  business,  and  inspect  the  worthiest  memorials 
of  an  earlier  age.  In  Memphis,  he  visited  the  ancient  city 
of  the  dead,  the  Pyramids,  the  great  sphinx,  and  the  Apis 
tombs. 

Before  leaving,  he  asked  for  himself  and  his  companions  an 
oracle  from  the  sacred  bull. 

The  poetess  Balbilla  had  promise  of  the  pleasantest  future. 
The  bull,  to  whom  she  offered  a  cake,  with  her  face  turned 
away,  had  been  satisfied  with  her  gift,  and  had  hcked  her  hand. 

Hadrian  was  uncertain  about  tlie  oracle  of  the  priest,  for  it 
was  given  to  him  as  a  sealed  roll,  with  its  explanation — but  he 
was  solemnly  commanded  not  to  open  it  before  the  end  of  half 
a  year. 

The  emperor  was  with  his  wife  only  at  the  largest  cities — for 
he  journeyed  by  land — she  by  water.  The  ship  almost  in- 
variably arrived  before  the  land  travelers,  and  when  they  at 
last  appeared,  there  was  each  time  a  ceremonial  welcome,  in 
which  Sabina  seldom  took  part.  Balbilla,  therefore,  took 
more  pains  to  make  their  arrival  pleasant  by  some  agreeable 
surprise. 

81ie  honored  the  emperor,  and  the  beauty  of  his  favorite 
exercised  an  irresistible  charm  upon  her  artistic  soul.  It  gave 
her  pleasure  to  look  upon  him — his  dejiarture  was  a  trial;  and 
when  he  aii2)eared,  she  was  always  the  first  to  greet  him — and 


THE  EMPETIOR.  345 

yet  he  troubled  himself  no  more  about  this  bright  girl  than 
about  the  other  ladies  of  Sabina's  suite;  but  Balbilla  wished 
nothing  of  him  except  the  pleasure  of  looking  at  him  and  re- 
joicing in  his  beauty. 

Had  he  presumed  to  accept  her  homage  as  a  proof  of  love, 
and  offered  her  his  own,  the  poetess  would  have  driven  him 
with  indignation  back  to  his  proper  place,  and  still  she  made  no 
attempt  to  conceal  her  admiration  for  his  beauty,  and  ex- 
pressed it  in  conspicuous  manner.  When  the  land  travelers 
appeared  after  an  absence  longer  than  usual,  Antinous  found 
in  that  part  of  the  ship  appropriated  to  his  use  flowers  and 
choice  fruits  sent  by  her,  and  verses  she  had  written  for  him. 
He  laid  them  all  together,  and  paid  little  attention  to  their 
donor. 

The  poetess  remained  in  ignorance  of  this  indifference,  and 
indeed  troubled  herself  very  little  about  his  sentiments.  Up 
to  this  time  she  had  easily  kept  within  the  bounds  of  j^ropriety. 
Now  there  were  hours  in  which  .she  was  conscious  that  she 
might  overstep  those  limits.  But  what  cared  she  for  the  ver- 
dict of  those  around  her,  aiid  what  for  the  inner  life  of  the 
Bithynian,  whose  outward  form  alone  gave  her  pleasure? 

The  possibility  of  waking  hopes  in  him  which  she  never 
could  fulfill  did  not  frighten  her,  because  they  never  once  oc- 
curred to  her  thought.  And  still  she  was  satisfied  with  her- 
self, for  there  was  one  who  might  not  understand  her  actions, 
one  who  had  condemned  in  distinct  language  her  purpose  to 
send  flowers  as  a  mark  of  honor  to  the  beautiful  youth;  and 
the  verdict  of  this  one  was  more  to  her  than  that  of  all  other 
men  'and  w^omen  together.  This  one  was  the  architect  Pon- 
tius; and  strangely  enough  it  was  the  memory  of  him  that 
drove  her  on  from  one  jiiece  of  folly  to  another. 

She  had  often  met  Pontius  in  Alexandria,  and  at  her  depart- 
ure had  allowed  him  to  promise  that  he  would  follow  the  em- 
press and  herself,  and  give  them  his  comj^any  during  a  jiart  of 
the  Nile  trip. 

But  he  came  not — he  sent  no  word;  although  she  knew  he 
was  well  and  every  messenger  brought  the  emjjeror  a  written 
roll  from  his  hand.  He,  on  whose  true  devotion  she  had 
counted  as  on  a  rock,  was  no  less  self-interested  and  inconstant 
than  the  other  men. 

She  thought  daily  and  hourly  of  him,  and  whenever  a  ship 
from  the  north  dropped  anchor  near  theirs  she  watt^hed  the 
passengers  going  ashore,  in  the  hope  of  discovering  him  among 
them. 

She  longed  for  the  x)resence  of  Pontius,  as  a  bewildered  trav- 


34 C  THE  EMPEROR. 

eler  longs  for  the  return  of  the  guide  who  has  deserted  him; 
and  still  she  felt  angry,  for  he  had  shown  by  a  thousaiid  signs 
that  he  valued  Jier,  that  slie  had  a  jJower  over  his  strong  will, 
and  yet  he  had  broken  his  word  and  came  not. 

And  she?  Slie  had  not  been  insensible  to  his  devotion,  and 
was  more  gracious  toward  this  grandson  of  her  grandfather's 
freedman  than  toward  the  noblest  man  of  her  own  rank. 

And  in  sjiite  of  all  this  Pontius  had  sjjoiled  the  pleasure  of 
her  journey  by  remaining  in  Alexandria  instead  of  following 
her  steps.  How  easily  might  he  have  committed  his  work  to 
other  architects,  of  whom  the  great  cosmoi^olitan  city  was  full. 

Still,  if  he  did  not  care  for  her,  surely  she  Avould  not  trouble 
herself  about  him !  Perhaps  toward  the  end  of  the  journey  he 
would  appear,  and  then  he  should  learn  how  she  had  heeded 
his  admonitions!  She  longed  imj^atiently  for  a  time  when  she 
inight  read  to  him  all  the  verses  she  had  written  to  xlutinous, 
and  ask  how  they  jileased  him. 

It  gave  her  a  childish  pleasure  to  add  to  the  number  of  these 
little  poems,  to  finish  them  neatly,  and  put  all  her  skill  and 
intelligence  into  their  creation.  She  herself  preferred  the  more 
elaborate  and  heavy  measures.  A  few  of  them  were  composed 
in  Latin,  some  in  Attic,  and  others  in  the  Jj]olian  Greek — of 
which  she  now  understood  the  use — and  all,  just  to  punish 
Pontius,  to  make  liim  angry,  and  besides,  to  exhibit  to  him  her 
own  brilliancy  of  execution.  She  sung  to  Antinous  for  the 
sake  of  Pontius,  and  the  favorite  received  no  flowers  not  ac- 
companied by  thoughts  of  the  architect  and  a  defiant  curl  of  the 
lip  of  Balbilla! 

But  no  girl  can  sing  the  charms  of  a  youth  in  ever-var3dng 
verse  without  the  inevitable  penalty,  and  so  there  came  hours 
when  Balbilla  was  inclined  to  believe  that  she  loved  Antinous. 
Then  she  called  herself  his  Sai)pho,  and  he  seemed  destined  to 
become  her  Phaon.  During  his  long  absences  with  the  em- 
peror she  really  succeeded  in  longing  for  him,  even  with 
tears;  but  as  soon  as  he  returned,  and  she  looked  again  ujjon 
his  emotionless  features  and  languid  eyes,  and  heard  the  sleepy 
"  yes  "  and  "  no  "  with  which  he  anss^-ered  her  questions,  the 
charm  was  quite  broken,  and  she  honestly  confessed  to  herself 
that  she  would  be  quite  as  haiJ])y  to  see  his  image  hewn  from 
flesh  and  marble  as  in  living  llesli  and  blood.  At  such  times 
the  memory  of  Pontius  became  especially  vivid,  and  once  as 
their  ship  passed  through  a  mass  of  lotus  leaves,  among  wliich 
one  handsome  full-blown  flower  lifted  its  head,  she  wove — as 
it  was  her  natural  impulse  to  do  at  the  sight  of  any  remark- 
able object — a  series  of  verses,  in  which  Antinous  was  repre- 


THE  EMPEKOR.  347 

sented  as  a  lotus  flower,  who  fulfilled  his  destiny  by  being  beau- 
tiful, and  Pontius  was  likened  to  the  ship  that,  firmly  built 
and  well  managed,  was  invited  to  fresh  voyages  in  the  spaces 
beyond. 

The  Nile  voyage  ended  at  hundred-gated  Thebes,  where 
nothing  which  could  interest  the  Romans  remained  unvisited. 
The  tombs  of  the  Pharaohs  hewn  in  the  rocky  cliffs,  and  the 
great  temple  to  the  west  of  the  dead  city,  now  despoiled  of  its 
brilliance,  awoke  the  admiration  of  Hadrian. 

The  imperial  party  heard  three  times  the  musical  sounds  at 
early  morning  from  the  famous  colossal  statue  of  Memnon — 
whose  upper  portion  had  been  shattered  by  an  earthquake, 

Balbilla  described  this  event  in  several  long  poems,  which 
Sabina  had  engraved  in  the  stone  of  the  Colossus. 

The  poetess  beheved  she  had  heard  the  voice  of  Memnon 
singing  to  his  mother,  Aurora,  while  her  tears — the  fresh  morn- 
ing dew — moistened  the  statue  of  her  son,  who  had  fallen  be- 
fore the  walls  of  Troy. 

She  comjDosed  these  verses  in  the  ^olian  dialect,  and  in- 
formed her  readers — among  whom  she  included  Pontius — that 
she  was  descended  from  no  lower  house  than  that  of  King  An- 
tiochus. 

The  huge  temples  on  both  banks  of  the  Nile  realized  fully 
the  expectations  of  the  emperor,  although  through  earthquake 
and  sieges  they  had  suffered  much  injury,  and  the  im2:»over- 
ished  priesthood  of  Thebes  were  no  longer  in  condition  to  bear 
the  expense  of  their  i:)reservation,  not  to  mention  restoration. 

Balbilla  went  with  Hadrian  to  the  Temple  of  Ammon,  east- 
ward of  Thebes.  In  the  loftiest  and  most  vast  of  all  jiillared 
halls,  her  sensitive  soul  was  exalted  to  rapture,  and  as  the  em- 
peror noticed  her  glowing  cheeks,  as  she  sometimes  gazed  up- 
ward, sometimes  leaned  against  the  mighty  towering  columns, 
he  asked  what  she  felt  in  this  true  temple  of  the  gods. 

*' One  thing  above  all  others,^'  cried  the  poetess,  "that 
architecture  is  the  most  exalting  of  all  the  arts!  This  tem])]e 
seems  a  mighty  epode,  written,  not  in  poor  words,  but  in  solid 
masses.  A  thousand  parts  are  here  bound  in  one  vast  whole, 
and  each  adds  beautiful  harmony  to  the  others,  and  helps  to 
express  the  mighty  thought  which  filled  the  soul  of  its  creator. 
What  other  art  is  permitted  to  express  such  imperishable  ideas, 
surpassing  every  ordinary  standard  of  measure?^' 

' '  The  poetess  bestows  laurels  upon  the  architect!*'  exclaimed 
the  emperor.  "  But  is  not  infinitude  the  realm  of  the  poet, 
while  the  architect  must  be  limited  by  the  finite?" 

"Is,  then,  the  nature  of  divinity  to  be  mcasux*ed?^'  asked 


348  THE  EMPEROR. 

Balbilla,  in  reply.  "It  is  not;  and  yet  this  hall  is  so  mad© 
tliat  even  the  gods  would  find  space  within  it/" 

"  Because  its  creation  is  due  to  a  master  whose  soul  touched 
the  border  of  eternity.  Still,  do  you  believe  this  building  will 
outlast  the  songs  of  Homer?" 

"  Xo;  but  its  memory  will  be  as  imperishable  as  is  the 
wrath  of  Achilles  or  the  wanderings  of  Odyssey."' 

''  It  is  a  shame  that  our  Pontius  can  not  hear  you/'  said  tlio 
emperor.  "  He  has  just  comjoleted  the  plan  for  a  work  des- 
tined to  outlive  me,  him,  and  all  of  us.  I  speak  of  my  own 
mausoleum.  Besides  that,  I  shall  have  him  build  gates,  courts, 
and  halls,  of  Egy}:)tian  style,  at  Tibur,  in  memory  of  our 
travels  through  this  wonderful  land.  I  expect  him  to-mor- 
row." 

"  To-morrow!"  exclaimed  Balbilla,  while  a  scarlet  flush 
dyed  her  cheeks  and  spread  over  her  forehead. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

Soon  after  leaving  Thebes,  which  event  occurred  on  the  sec- 
ond of  the  following  November,  Hadrian  resolved  to  recognize 
Verus  not  only  as  his  son  but  liis  successor. 

Sabina's  appeals  were  not  the  only  influences  which  had  jire- 
vailed  to  end  this  delay;  it  w^as  partly  the  result  of  a  wish 
peculiarly  his  own. 

His  wife's  heart  had  longed  for  a  child;  his  own  had  desired 
a  son,  and  in  Antinous  he  possessed  one.  This  favorite  was  a 
boy  of  humble,  though  free  biilh,  whom  he  had  picked  up 
during  liis  travels;  but  it  was  in  his  jDOwer  to  make  him  great, 
to  give  him  the  liighest  posts  of  honor  in  Rome,  and  at  last 
make  him  his  own  heir.  If  any  one  deserved  this,  it  was  An- 
tinous, and  to  him  alone  could  Hadrian  give  all  he  possessed 
without  grudging.  This  had  been  his  thought  and  wish  for  a 
long  time,  but  the  mood  and  character  of  the  Bithynian  con- 
tinually removed  him  from  its  realization. 

Hadrian  had  taken  more  pains  than  his  predecessors  to  raise 
the  lowered  dignity  of  the  senate,  and  still  he  felt  quite  cer- 
tain of  their  consent  to  any  measure  he  miglit  propose. 

'J'he  leading  magistrates  of  the  republic  had  been  recognized 
under  the  most  lawless  of  his  predecessors,  and  still  main- 
tained their  authority.  Truly,  all  must,  as  they  say,  follow 
the  emperor,  but  these  were  always  at  hand,  and  the  empire 
might  continue  to  exist  within  the  limits  set  by  Hadrian,  with 
ivise  moderation,  even  with  a  weakling  on  the  throne. 

A  few  montlis  before  he  would  not  have  ventured  to  think 


THE  EMPEROR.  -^49 

of  adopting  his  favorite.  Now  he  seemed  to  stand  nearer  the 
realization  of  this  wish. 

Autinous  was  indeed  always  a  dreamer,  but  during  these  foot 
wanderings  and  hunting  expeditions  he  had  shown  himself 
fresh,  and  vigorous,  and  sensible,  and — after  leaving  Thebes — 
bold  and  almost  cheerful.  This  Antinous  was  teachable,  and 
if  he  should  rise  from  one  j)Osition  to  another,  he  could  finally 
make  him  his  successor.  But  at  first  he  would  keep  his  plan 
concealed. 

Should  he  publicly  adopt  Verus,  every  thought  of  another 
choice  would  be  closed  to  him.  Yet  he  dared  confidently  vent- 
ure to  nominate  this  darling  of  Sabina,  since  tlie  most  cele- 
brated among  the  Eoman  physicians  had  written  to  Hadrian., 
at  his  own  I'equest,  that  the  undermined  health  of  the  2)retor 
could  not  bo  restored;  at  the  very  best,  he  had  but  a  few  years 
longer  to  live.  So  then  Verus  might  quietly  decline  in  the 
midst  of  brilliant  hopes!  After  his  eyes  were  closed  he  would 
be  able  to  place  the  dreamer — by  that  time  matured  into  vigor- 
ous manhood — in  his  place. 

Upon  the  return  journey  to  Alexandria  from  Thebes 
Hadrian  met  his  wife  in  Ab_ydos,  and  there  made  known  to  her 
his  determination  to  proclaim  the  sou  of  her  choice  his  suc- 
cessor. 

Sabina  thanked  him  with  an  "  at  last "  that  partly  expressed 
her  satisfaction  and  partly  her  vexation  over  the  long  delay  of 
her  husband. 

Hadrian  gave  her  permission  to  return  to  Rome  directly 
from  Alexandria — and  on  the  same  day  he  sent  letters  to  the 
senate  and  to  the  prefect  of  Egypt.  The  letter  for  Titianus 
contamed  the  commission  to  make  known  at  once  the  adoption 
of  the  jiretor,  and  on  this  occasion  to  proclaim  a  festival,  and 
grant  to  the  j)eoj)le,  in  the  name  of  the  emperor,  all  the  favors 
which  Egyjitian  custom  jirescribed  for  celebrating  the  birth  of 
a  successor  to  the  throne. 

The  princely  party  honored  the  event  by  magnificent  ban- 
quets, in  which  the  emjDoror  took  no  share.  He  was  taken 
across  the  Nile  to  Anta^opolis,  in  the  desert,  in  order  from 
there  to  j)enetrate  the  defiles  of  the  Arabian  mountain  ranges, 
to  hunt  wild  animals.  None  but  Antinous,  Mastor,  and  a 
few  hunters  and  dogs  bore  him  company. 

At  Besa  he  expected  again  to  meet  the  ships.  He  had  post- 
poned a  visit  to  this  place  until  the  return,  because  he  had 
gone  up  on  the  wcster]i  bank  of  the  Nile,  and  a  passage  across 
the  stream  would  have  takcii  too  much  time. 

On  a  sultry  November  evening  the  tents  of  the  travelers 


350  THE  EMPEROR. 

were  set  up  between  the  Nile  and  tlie  chalk  mountains,  which 
contained  a  long  row  of  Pharaonic  tombs. 

Hadrian  wished  to  visit  these,  for  he  was  always  entertained 
by  the  remarkable  inscriptions  upon  the  walls;  but  Antinous 
remained  behind,  for  he  had  visited  many  more  throughout 
Upper  Eg3'pt  than  was  agreeable.  I'hey  seemed  to  him  all 
alike  and  unpleasant,  for  he  had  not  the  perseverance  of  his 
master  in  studying  their  significance.  A  hundred  times  he 
had  gone,  simply  to  bear  Hadrian  company — certainly  not  for 
his  own  sake — into  those  old  caverns;  but  to-day  he  could 
scarcely  contain  himself  with  impatience  and  excitement,  for 
he  knew  that  a  ride  or  a  Avalk  of  only  a  few  hours  would  take 
him  to  ]>csa — to  Selene. 

The  emi^eror  would  jierhaps  be  absent  three  or  four  hours, 
and  if  he  had  the  courage,  he  might,  before  his  return,  seek 
out  the  girl  for  whom  he  longed  and  still  be  back  before  his 
master.     But  before  doing  this  he  must  consider. 

The  em23eror  had  climbed  the  mountain  and  might  see  him 
— messengers  were  expected,  and  he  had  been  commissioned  to 
receive  them.  Should  bad  news  arrive,  his  master  must  under 
no  condition  be  alone. 

Ten  times  he  went  out  to  his  good  steed,  thinking  to  swing 
In'mself  upon  his  back.  Once  he  even  put  out  his  hand  to  ar- 
range the  head-gear  and  the  bridle;  but  while  in  the  very  act 
of  putting  the  pliant,  many-jointed  bit  between  the  teeth  of 
his  horse,  his  courage  gave  way  again. 

Meanwhile  the  hours  sped  on,  and  at  last  it  was  so  late  that 
the  emperor  might  return  at  any  moment,  and  it  would  be 
folly  to  think  any  longer  of  carrying  out  his  desire. 

Then  the  expected  messenger  arrived  with  many  documents, 
but  not  Hadrian.  It  grew  dark,  and  great  drops  of  rain  fell 
from  the  heavy  clouds,  and  Antinous  was  still  alone. 

Joined  to  his  longing  there  came  regret  over  the  lost  oppor- 
tunity to  see  Selene  again,  and  he  was  troubled  by  the  long 
absence  of  his  master. 

In  spite  of  the  rain,  which  fell  still  more  heavily,  he  went 
into  the  open  air,  whose  opi^ressive  sultriness  had  destroyed  the 
power  of  his  will,  and  called  the  dogs,  thinkhig  he  would  go 
to  seek  the  emperor;  but  at  that  moment  he  heard  the  bark  of 
the  Molossian,  and  soon  after  Hadrian  and  Mastor  came  out  of 
the  darkness  into  the  illuminated  space  before  the  tent.  The 
emperor  bestowed  but  a  brief  greeting  upon  his  favorite,  and 
silently  enjoyed  his  attentions  as  he  dried  his  hair  and  brought 
refi-eshmeiits,  while  Mastor  bathed  his  feet  and  arrayed  him  in 
fresh  garments. 


THE  EMPEROK.  351 

As  tliey  stretclied  themselves  upon  their  couches  to  partake 
of  the  evening  meal,  Hadrian  said: 

"  A  strange  evening!  How  hot  and  oppressive  is  the  atmos- 
phere! We  must  be  on  our  guard,  for  strange  dangers  are 
near/^ 

"  What  has  haj^pened  to  you,  sire?'' 

"  Various  things.  Directly  before  the  door  of  the  first 
tomb  I  wished  to  enter,  I  met  an  old  black  woman,  Avho 
stretched  out  her  hands  to  j^revent  our  apjjroach,  uttering 
strange  cries." 

Did  you  understand  her! 


"  No;  who  can  learn  this  Egyptiii 


lan 


"  Then  you  do  not  know  what  she  said?" 

"  It  was  my  duty  to  find  out.  She  had  cried  '  Death!'  and 
again  '  Death. '  In  the  tomb  she  was  watching  were  I  know 
not  how  many  victims  of  the  plague." 

''  Did  you  see  them?" 

"  Yes.  I  have  before  only  heard  of  this  disease.  It  is  hor- 
rible, and  corresponds  to  the  description  I  have  read  of  it." 

"But,  sire!"  cried  Antinous,  reproachfully,  and  with  anx- 
iety. 

"  As  we  turned  away  from  the  tomb,"  continued  Hadrian, 
without  giving  any  heed  to  the  exclamation  of  the  youth,  "  we 
met  an  elderly  man  clothed  in  white,  and  a  singular-looking 
girl.     She  was  lame,  and  of  remarkable  beauty." 

"  Was  she  also  going  to  the  diseased?" 

"  Yes;  she  was  carrying  them  bread  and  medicine." 

"But  she  did  not  go  in  to  them!"  exclaimed  Antinous, 
earnestly. 

"  She  did  go,  in  sjjite  of  my  warning.  In  her  comjianion  I 
recognized  an  old  acquaintance." 

"An  old  one?" 

"  Probably  he  is  older  than  I.  We  were  together  in  Athens 
when  both  young.  He  was  then  a  Piatonist,  and  more  zeal- 
ous, perhaps  also  more  highly  gifted  than  the  rest  of  us. " 

"  How  comes  such  a  man  among  victims  of  the  plague  in 
Besa?     Is  he  a  j^hysician?" 

"  No.  At  Athens  he  was  zealously  seeking  the  truth,  which 
he  now  claims  to  have  found." 

"  Here,  among  the  Egyptians?" 

"  In  Alexandria,  among  the  Christians." 

"  And  the  lame  girl  who  accompanied  the  2)hilosopher;  does 
she  also  believe  in  the  crucified  God?" 

"  Yes,  slie  is  a  nurse,  or  something  of  that  sort.  There  is 
really  something  wonderful  in  the  fanaticism  of  these  people." 


353  THE  EMPEKOK. 

•*  Is  it  true  that  they  worship  an  ass  and  a  dove?" 

**  Xonsense!" 

"I  do  not  wish  to  believe  it.  At  any  rate  they  are  good, 
and  care  for  all  who  suffer,  even  for  strangersf^  who  have  no 
claim  upon  them/' 

"  Where  did  you  learn  this?" 

"  In  Alexandria  one  hears  much  of  the  sect." 

"  Unfortunately,  I  persecute  no  intangible  foe,  and  among 
such  I  reckon  the  thoughts  and  beliefs  of  men;  but  I  some- 
times question  whether  it  be  for  the  real  iirofit  of  a  state  to 
have  the  citizens  give  up  struggling  against  the  troubles  of  life 
and  comfort  themselves  with  the  hope  of  fancied  happiness  in 
another  world,  which  perhaps  exists  only  in  their  own  imagina- 
tions. " 

"I  could  wish  to  have  life  end  at  death,"  said  Antinous, 
thoughtfully.      "  And  yet — " 

"  Well?" 

"  If  I  could  know  certainly  that  in  that  other  world  I  should 
find  those  gathered  whom  I  wish  to  see  again,  then  could  I 
wish  a  second  life." 

"  Would  you  like  to  be  crowded  and  pushed  to  all  eternity 
by  the  many  old  acquaintances  which  death  has  increased 
rather  than  diminished?" 

"  Not  that,  but  I  woidd  that  it  might  be  permitted  me  to 
live  forever  with  a  few  chosen  souls." 

"  Should  I  belong  among  them?" 

"  Yes,"  cried  Antinous,  heartily,  pressing  his  lips  upon  the 
hand  of  Hadrian. 

"  I  knew  that;  but  even  at  the  price  of  never  being  mthout 
you,  my  darling,  would  I  not  relinquish  the  only  right  mor- 
tals can  claim  from  the  immortal  gods." 

"  What  right  can  you  mean?" 

"  The  right  to  step  out  from  among  the  living  so  soon  as 
the  not-being  seems  more  endurable  than  the  being,  and  it 
pleases  me  to  call  for  death." 

"  The  gods  certainly  can  not  die." 

"  And  the  Christians  only  wish  to  knit  a  new  life  upon  the 
old." 

"  Yet  a  fairer  one  than  that  on  the  earth." 

"  They  call  it  a  blessed  state.  The  mother  of  tliis  everlast- 
ing life  is  that  inextinguishable  love  of  existence  we  find  even 
among  the  most  wretched  of  our  race — its  father  is  hope. 
They  believe  in  freedom  from  suffering  in  that  other  world, 
for  He  whom  they  call  their  ift'dcemer  has  through  His  own 
death  delivered  them  from  all  pain." 


THE  EMPEEOR.  353 

"  Can  one,  then,  take  upon  himself  the  sufferings  of 
others,  as  a  garment,  or  a  burden?" 

"  So  they  say,  and  my  friend  from  Athens  is  persuaded  of 
it.  In  the  Ifeoks  of  magic  are  many  directions  for  laying  over 
misfortune,  not  only  from  men  upon  animals,  but  also  from 
one  man  upon  another.  There  have  been  among  slaves  many 
remarkable  attemjits  of  that  sort,  and  in  some  of  the  provinces 
I  have  had  to  contend  with  human  sacrifices  by  which  the  gods 
are  thought  to  be  reconciled  or  appeased.  Think  of  the  inno- 
cent Ijjhigenia,  who  was  led  to  the  altar  of  sacrifice — and  did 
not  the  yawning  chasm  beneath  the  forum  close  again  after 
Cur  tins  had  leaped  into  it?  Should  destiny  aim  a  deadly  shaft 
at  you,  and  I  receive  it  into  my  own  breast,  perhaps  she  would 
be  satisfied  with  the  fling,  and  ask  not  who  had  received  it. " 

"  The  gods  must  have  little  discrimination  if  they  would  not 
accept  your  blood  in  place  of  mine. " 

"  Life  is  life,  and  that  of  the  younger  is  worth  more  than 
that  of  the  old.     For  you  many  joys  are  yet  to  bloom. " 

"  And  you  are  indispensable  to  the  whole  terrestrial  globe/' 

"  After  me  will  come  another.     Are  you  ambitious,  boy?" 

"No,  sire.^' 

"  What  does  that  signify?  All  others  except  you  congratu- 
late me  on  my  son,  Verus.     Does  not  my  choice  please  you?" 

Antinous  blushed,  and  looked  at  the  ground  in  confusion; 
but  Hadrian  said: 

''  Say  frankly  what  you  are  thinking." 

"  The  jDretor  is  suffering." 

"  He  has  but  a  few  years  to  live,  and  after  he  is  dead — " 

"  He  may,  perhaps,  recover." 

"  After  he  is  dead,  I  must  look  about  for  another  successor. 
What  do  you  think?  By  whom  does  a  man,  be  he  slave  or 
consul,  best  like  to  hear  himself  called  '  father  'V 

"  By  one  he  loves  most." 

''  You  are  right;  especially  when  that  one  has  clung  to  you 
with  truest  devotion.  I  am  a  man  like  the  others,  and  you, 
my  dear  fellow,  stand  always  nearest  my  heart,  and  I  shall 
bless  the  day  when,  before  all  the  world,  I  may  permit  you  to 
call  me  '  father. '  Do  not  interrupt  me.  If  you  make  vigor- 
ous use  of  your  powers,  and  show  the  same  wakeful  sense  in 
leading  men  as  you  do  in  the  chase — if  you  seek  to  sharpen 
your  mental  j)owers  and  grasp  what  I  teach  you — it  may  hap- 
pen that  some  day,  Antinous,  instead  of  Verus — " 

"  Only  not  that!"  cried  the  youth,  turning  pale,  and  rais- 
ing imploring  hands. 

"  The  greatness  with  which  fate  surprises  us  appears  fright- 


3o4  TIIR   EMPEROR. 

fill  onl}'  while  it  is  new.  The  captain  is  soon  accustomed  to 
storms  at  sea,  and  one  comes  at  last  to  wear  the  purple  as  you 
do  your  chiton. " 

"Oh,  sire!  I  beg  you/'  exclaimed  Antiuous,  •drop  these 
thoughts.     I  am  not  fit  for  greatness." 

"  The  tiniest  shoots  become  palms." 

"  But  I  am  only  a  poor  weed  that  lives  in  your  shadow. 
The  proud  Rome — " 

"  liomc  is  my  serving-maid.  She  has  often  been  ruled  by 
men  of  very  ordinary  grade,  and  I  wish  to  show  her  how  the 
most  beautiful  among  her  sons  can  wear  the  purj^le.  The 
world  might  expect  such  a  choice  from  the  emperor  it  has  long 
known  as  an  artist — that  means,  a  priest  of  the  beautiful.  If 
not,  I  shall  constrain  it  to  yield  its  taste  to  mine." 

"  You  are  only  mocking  me,  Caesar,"  cried  the  Bithyuian. 
"  Certainly  you  can  not  be  in  earnest,  and  if  you  really  love 
me — " 

"  Well,  boy?*' 

"  Then  let  me  live  quietly  with  you  and  care  for  you;  desire 
nothing  from  me  but  reverence,  love,  and  devotion." 

"  Those  I  possessed  long  ago,  and  for  those  treasures  would 
like  to  reward  my  Antinous." 

"  Let  me  only  hve  near  you;  let  me,  if  that  be  necessary, 
die  for  you." 

'*  I  believe  you  would  make  the  sacrifice  for  me  of  which  we 
were  speaking." 

"  At  any  hour,  ^^dthout  the  quiver  of  an  eyelash." 

"  I  thank  you  for  this  word.  It  has  become  a  jjleasant  even- 
ing, and  what  a  different  one  I  expected!" 

"  Because  the  old  woman  before  the  tent  terrified  you?" 

*'  '  Death  '  is  an  abhorrent  word.  And  yet  to  be  dead  can 
not  terrify  the  wise,  though  that  step  out  of  the  light  into  the 
darkness  is  frightful.  The  image  of  that  old  woman  and  her 
shrill  cry  will  not  go  out  of  my  thoughts.  Then  came  the 
Christian,  and  made  that  heart-appealing  speech.  Before  it 
grew  dark  he  went  home  with  the  limping  girl.  I  looked  after 
them  until  dazzled  by  the  sunlight  that  shone  over  the  L3'bian 
hills.  The  horizon  was  clear,  but  under  the  evening  star 
clouds  were  gathering.  In  the  west,  say  the  Egyjjtians,  is  the 
kingdom  of  the  dead.  I  could  but  think  of  that,  and  of  the 
oracle,  and  the  calamity  with  which  the  stars  have  threatened 
me  this  year,  and  the  cry  of  the  woman — all  rushed  into  my 
thoughts  together.  As  I  saw  how  the  sun  struggled  with  the 
clouds,  as  it  sunk  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  hills  on  the  other 
side  of  the  stream,  I  said  to  myself:  If  the  sun  go  down  clear, 


THE  EMPEROR.  J^55 

I  may  look  confidently  toward  the  future;  but,  if  it  be  ob- 
scured by  the  clouds  before  its  setting,  then  will  the  prophecy 
of  evil  be  fulfilled,  and  it  will  become  me  to  take  in  sail  and 
wait  for  the  storm. " 

"  And  what  happened?'^ 

"  The  fiery  ball  glowed  red,  and  countless  rays  streamed 
from  it — each  separated  from  the  others,  and  all  brilliant.  It 
w^as  as  if  the  sinking  ball  were  a  center  for  innumerable  arrows, 
which  were  to  be  shot  into  the  clouds  in  all  directions.  The 
spectacle  was  wonderful  and  stirred  my  heart  to  joyful  emo- 
tions, when  a  dark  cloud  dropped  suddenly,  as  though  exas- 
perated by  the  wounds  received  from  these  golden  arrows;  then 
another,  and  another  followed  quickly,  and  black  demons 
flung  a  shadowy  gray  veil  over  the  luminous  head  of  Helios, 
as  the  hangman  draws  a  coarse  black  cloth  over  the  face  of  the 
condemned  victim,  on  whom  he  plants  a  knee,  in  order  to 
strangle  him.^' 

Antinous  covered  his  face  with  both  hands,  and  murmured, 
in  a  tone  of  anguish: 

"  Horrible,  horrible!  What  may  be  before  us?  Only  hear 
the  thunder,  and  the  rain  beating  on  the  tent!'^ 

"  The  clouds  send  down  streams.  The  water  is  already 
running  in,  and  the  slaves  must  cut  a  trench  to  draw  it  off. 
Tighten  the  j)ins,  you  fellows  outside,  or  the  storm  will  over- 
throw this  frail  structure.  And  how  sultry  the  atmosphere! 
The  hot  wind  seems  to  warm  the  rain-gusts.  Here  it  is  dry. 
Mix  me  a  cup  of  wine,  Antinous.     Were  there  any  letters ?'' 

"  Yes,  sire." 

"  Give  them  to  me,  Mastor."' 

The  slave,  who  was  busy  trying  to  bank  up  soil  and  stones 
against  the  trickling  stream  of  rain,  sprung  uj),  dried  his  haiids 
quickly,  took  one  of  the  sacks  from  the  chest  devoted  to  the 
papers  of  the  emperor,  and  gave  it  to  his  master. 

Hadrian  opened  the  leather  bag,  took  out  a  roll,  which  he 
tore  open  with  a  rapid  motion,  and  cried  out,  after  running 
his  eye  over  the  contents: 

"  What  is  this?  I  have  opened  the  oracle  of  Apis.  How 
did  they  come  among  my  fresh  dispatches?'^ 

Antinous  came  nearer,  and  looking  at  the  sack,  said: 

"  Master  has  made  a  mistake.  These  arc  the  documents 
from  Mempliis.     I  Avill  bring  you  the  right  bag.'' 

'*  Wait,"  said  the  emperor,  seizing  the  hand  of  his  favorite. 
"  Is  this  a  mere  accident  or  the  arrangement  of  Destiny?  Why 
did  the  wrong  sack  come  into  my  hand  on  this  jiarticular  day? 
And  why,  among  the  twenty  documents  it  contained,  should  I 


356  THE   BMPEROR. 

have  seized  exactly  this  one?  Look,  I  will  explain  these  fig- 
ui'esto5'ou:  There  are  three  pairs  of  arms,  iirovided  with  sword 
and  sliield,  close  beside  the  Egyptian  name  of  the  month  which 
corresponds  to  our  November.  lUiose  arc  three  signs  of 
calamity.  The  lutes  at  the  tojo  are  significant  of  good;  the 
masts  yonder  mean  an  ordinary  state  of  things.  Three  of 
these  characters  always  stand  together.  Three  Intes  signify 
special  prosj^erity;  two  lutes  and  one  mast,  a  mixed  condition. 
One  pair  of  arms  and  two  lutes  mean  misfortune,  to  be  fol- 
lowed by  better  conditions,  and  so  on.  Here,  in  November, 
begin  the  arms  furnished  with  weapons,  and  they  stand  in 
threes  and  threes,  and  signify  only  threatening  calamity  with- 
out the  mitigation  of  one  lute.  Do  you  see  tliis,  boy?  Do 
you  understand  the  meaning  of  these  signs?" 

"  Well;  but  are  you  sure  that  you  interpret  them  right? 
The  arms  furnished  with  weapons  might  lead  to  victory." 

"  No.  The  Egyptian  uses  them  to  indicate  confhct,  and 
conflict  and  unrest  signify  what  v/e  call  disaster  and  evil." 

*'  How  peculiar!" 

*'  No,  it  is  well  planned,  for  they  say  all  was  originally 
created  perfect  by  the  gods,  but  a  portion  of  the  universal  All 
has  changed  its  nature  through  the  introduction  of  disturbing 
and  inharmonious  elements.  This  ex23lanation  was  given  me 
by  a  priest  of  Apis;  and  here,  near  the  name  November,  stand 
the  three  arms,  the  horrible  symbol.  If  the  lightning  which 
so  incessantly  illuminates  this  tent  were  to  strike  3'ou  and  me 
and  all  of  us,  it  would  not  surprise  me.  Something  terrible  is 
before  us.  Courage  is  essential  to  keep  the  eye  clear  under 
such  prognostics  of  evil,  and  not  to  grow  famt-hearted. " 

"  Only  use  your  own  arms  against  the  conflicting  arms  of 
the  l^^gyjitian  gods,  for  they  are  strong,"  begged  Antiuous; 
but  the  emperor  dropped  his  head,  and  said,  despairingly: 

"  Even  the  divinities  must  yield  to  Destiny." 

The  thunder  tempest  continued  to  rage,  and  more  than  once 
tore  the  tent  fastenings  out  of  the  ground,  so  that  the  slaves 
were  compelled  to  hold  the  frail  dwelling  of  their  master  down 
with  their  hands.  The  clouds  sent  great  streams  of  water 
over  the  hills  of  the  desert  that  for  years  had  not  felt  a  drop, 
and  filled  every  dried  channel  in  their  declivities  with  a  rush- 
ing flood. 

Neither  Hadrian  nor  Antinous  closed  their  eyes  during  the 
whole  of  that  terril)le  night. 

^J'hc  emperor  had  opened  but  one  of  the  i-olls  from  the  letter- 
bag  containing  the  latest  dis2)atches.     This  brought  tidings 


THE  EMPEROR.  857 

that  Titianus  was  greatly  troubled  by  his  old  asthmatic  diffi- 
culties, and  begged  permission  to  retire  from  public  service. 
It  was  no  light  thing  for  the  emperor  to  lose  this  faithful  assist- 
ant, to  relinquish  the  service  of  one  whom  he  had  in  liis  eye 
for  the  work  of  reducing  Judea — where  revolt  had  again  raised 
its  head — to  obedience,  without  the  shedding  of  blood.  Others 
might  succeed  in  annihilating  the  seditious  race,  but  only  the 
mild  and  shrewd  Titianus  could  conquer  them  with  kindness. 

The  emperor  had  not  courage  to  open  another  letter  that 
night.  He  lay  in  silence  upon  his  jDillow  until  the  morn- 
ing dawned,  and  thought  over  the  evil  deeds  of  his  life — the 
murder  of  Nigrinus,  of  Titianus,  and  the  other  senators, 
through  which  he  had  confirmed  his  own  sovereignty,  and 
vowed  to  make  new  and  large  sacrifices  to  the  gods  if  they 
would  protect  him  from  the  next  imi^ending  calamity. 

When  he  rose  in  the  morning,  Antiuous  was  frightened  by 
his  appearance,  for  face  and  lips  were  bloodless. 

After  reading  his  dispatches,  he  left,  with  Antinous  and  Mas- 
tor,  not  on  foot,  but  on  horseback,  for  Besa,  there  to  wait  the 
coming  of  his  party. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

The  unchained  elements  raged  also  in  all  their  fury  at  Besa, 
on  the  Nile.  The  citizens  of  this  old  city  had  done  all  they 
were  able  to  receive  the  traveling  monarch  in  a  worth}  man- 
ner. The  chief  streets  were  trimmed  with  flowers,  which  hung 
in  festoons  from  house  to  house,  and  also  from  mast  to  mast 
in  the  harbor,  and  directly  on  the  bank,  statues  of  Hadrian 
and  Sabina  had  been  erected.  But  the  garlands  were  torn  to 
the  ground  with  the  masts,  and  the  disturbed  waters  of  the 
stream  dashed  with  ungovernable  fury  upon  the  bank,  tearing 
away  one  strip  after  another  of  the  fruitful  soil,  plunging  like 
a  liquid  wedge  into  the  chasms  opened  by  the  parching  of  the 
soil,  and  excavating  the  high  bank  at  the  place  of  landing. 

Toward  midnight  the  storm  raged  with  unprecedented 
severity — it  tore  the  covering  of  palm  branches  from  the  roofs 
of  the  houses  and  tossed  the  waters  of  the  Nile  into  waves  that 
looked  like  the  surf  of  the  sea. 

The  whole  force  of  these  waves  was  expended  on  a  little 
promontory  where  the  statues  of  the  imperial  pair  stood. 
Shortly  before  the  dawn,  this  little  tongue  of  land,  which  had 
no  artificial  protection,  gave  way,  and  loose  pieces  of  soil  slid 
with  a  loud  splash  into  the  stream,  followed  by  a  portion  of 
the  overhanging  bank,  with  a  noise  like  thunder. 


358  THK   EMPEROR. 

Then  tho  surface  of  the  earth  behind  which  supported  the 
statues  sunk,  and  that  of  llie  emjjeror  tottered  and  slowly 
bent  toward  the  ground.  "When  dawn  revealed  the  condition 
of  things,  the  jiediment  was  still  in  its  place,  but  the  head  was 
buried  in  the  soil. 

At  break  of  day,  as  the  citizens  left  their  houses,  they  learned 
from  the  sailors  and  fisherman  Mdiat  had  happened  on  the 
bank  during  the  night;  and  as  the  storm  subsided,  hundreds, 
yes,  thousands,  of  men,  women  and  cliildren  crowded  to  the 
landing-place,  and  about  the  sunken  statue.  They  saw  the  torn 
soil  and  knew  that  the  stream  had  swept  the  land  away  from 
the  bank,  and  so  caused  the  misfortune.  AVas  the  Kile  god 
Hapi  j)erhaps  angry  with  the  emperor?  Surely  some  portent 
of  evil  was  in  this  accident  to  his  statue. 

The  Toparch,  the  chief  man  of  the  city,  undertook  immedi- 
ately the  work  of  replacing  it,  as  it  was  uninjured,  and  Had- 
rian might  ai)i:)ear  within  a  few  hours.  Manj^  men  of  the 
place,  both  slaves  and  freedmen,  assisted  in  this  work,  and 
soon  the  statue— of  an  Egyjitian  style  of  architecture — was  set 
U2)right  and  stared  into  the  harbor  as  before.  Sabina's  image 
was  moved  near  to  it,  and  the  Toparch  went  home  satisfied. 
Most  of  the  workingmen  and  the  idlers  left  the  landing-place 
with  him,  but  other  curious  visitors  followed,  who,  not  havmg 
seen  the  prostrate  statue,  expressed  their  opinions  as  to  the 
manner  of  its  fall. 

' '  The  storm  could  never  have  overturned  this  heavy  mass 
of  limestone,'^  said  a  rope-maker,  "  and  see  how  far  it  is  from 
the  wash-out  land. " 

"  It  fell  in  consequence  of  the  loosened  soil,"'  answered  a 
baker. 

"  That  is  so,"  said  a  shi]!  captain. 

"  Nonsense,"  cried  the  rope-maker;  "had  it  stood  on  the 
loosened  soil,  it  must  have  fallen  into  the  Avater  and  been  buried 
by  the  flood ;  auy  child  can  see  that.  Some  other  power  has 
been  called  into  play  here.'' 

"Perhaps,"  suggested  the  temj^le  servant,  who  meddled 
with  interpretation  of  signs,  "  the  gods  have  thi-own  down  the 
image  of  the  proud  Hadrian  to  give  him  a  warning." 

"  The  divinities  do  not  trouble  themselves  much  about  hu- 
man affairs  in  our  day."  answered  a  cobbler;  "  but  in  such  a 
terrible  night,  when  all  quiet  citizens  stayed  in  their  own 
houses,  the  enemies  of  the  emperor  had  free  play. " 

'"  We  are  all  true  subjects,"  said  a  baker,  indignantly. 

"  Kefractory  rabble  are  you  all,"  retorted  a  Konuin  soldier, 
who,  like  the  whole  cohort  now  serving  in  Hermopolis,  had 


THE   EMPEEOR.  359 

been  in  Jiidea  under  the  cruel  Tiunius  Eufus.  "  Brawls  never 
cease  among  you  animal  worshipers,  and  as  for  the  Christians 
nesting  on  the  other  side  that  ravine,  one  could  say  the  very 
worst  things,  and  still  be  flattering  them." 

"  The  brave  Fuscus  is  right/'  screeched  a  beggar.  "  That 
rabble  brought  the  plague  into  our  houses.  Whenever  the 
pestilence  appeared  you  could  be  sure  of  finding  them,  both 
men  and  women.  They  came  to  my  brother's.  Whole  nights 
long  they  sat  beside  the  sick  children,  and  of  course  both 
died." 

"  Were  only  my  old  legate,  Tinnius  Rufus,  here,"  said  the 
soldier,  grimly,  "  they  would  all  be  no  better  off  than  their 
crucified  God." 

"  I  certainly  have  no  sympathy  with  their  religion,"  said 
the  baker, ''  but  the  truth  must  stand.  They  are  quiet,  friend- 
ly people,  who  pay  their  debts  promptly,  do  no  harm,  and  show 
much  kindness  to  the  poor." 

"  Kindness!"  exclaimed  the  beggar,  who  had  often  received 
an  alms  from  the  deacon  of  the  community  at  Besa,  and  been 
advised  to  go  to  work.  "  The  five  jDriests,  who  served  the  grotto 
of  Artemis,  were  enticed  away  from  the  Sekos  by  them,  and 
shamelessly  deserted  the  sanctuary  of  the  goddess.  And  is  it 
anything  good  that  they  should  have  poisoned  my  brother's 
children?" 

"  Why  should  they  not  kill  children?"  asked  the  soldier. 
*'  I  heard  something  of  that  sort  in  Syria;  and  as  to  this  statue, 
I  will  never  wear  my  sword  again — " 

"Hear  the  brave  Fuscus:  he  has  seen  much,"  was  heard 
through  the  crowd. 

"  I  Avill  never  wear  my  sword  again,  if  they  have  not  thrown 
over  that  statue  in  the  darkness. " 

"No,  no,"  replied  the  ship-master,  positively;  "it  fell  in 
consequence  of  the  washing  away  of  the  land,  I  saw  it  lying 
there." 

"Are  you  one  of  the  Christians?"  asked  the  soldier,  "or 
do  you  believe  I  was  jesting  about  my  sword?  I  have  served 
in  Bithynia,  in  Syria,  and  Judea,  and  I  know  this  rabble,  you 
people.  Hundreds  of  Christians  there  threw  away  their  lives 
like  an  old  shoe,  rather  than  worsliijD  the  statue  of  the  emjjeror 
and  offer  sacrifice  to  our  gods. " 

"You  hear  that!"  screeched  the  beggar;  "  and  have  you 
Been  a  single  oiui  of  them  among  the  citizens  who  helped  set  it 
up  again?" 

"  Thei-e  were  none,"  said  the  ship-master,  who  began  to  in- 
cline toward  the  opinion  of  the  soldier. 


360  THE   EMPEEOR. 

"  The  Christians  threw  down  the  emperor's  statue/'  shouted 
the  beggar,  among  the  crowd.  "  It  is  proved,  and  they  shall 
pay  well  for  it!  Whoever  is  a  friend  of  the  divine  Hadrian 
will  help  me  drag  them  out  of  their  houses. " 

"  No  uproar,"  broke  in  the  soldier,  addressing  the  frantic 
man.     "  There  is  the  tribune;  he  will  hear  you." 

The  Roman  officer,  who  was  aijproaching  with  a  division  of 
soldiers  to  receive  Hadrian  outside  the  city,  was  greeted  with 
loud  cries  by  the  crovv'd,  but  he  ordered  them  to  be  quiet,  and 
learned  from  the  soldier  what  had  caused  the  excitement. 

"It  is  very  possible,"  said  the  nervous  and  severe-looking 
man,  who,  as  well  as  Fuscus,  had  served  under  Tinnius  l\ufus, 
and  had  obstinately  fought  his  own  way  up  from  serving-boy 
to  officer.     "  Very  possible.     But  where  are  your  proofs?" 

'*  Most  of  the  citizens  assisted  in  replacing  the  statue,  but 
the  Christians  held  themselves  aloof  from  the  work,"  cried  the 
beggar.  "  Not  one  was  seen  here.  Ask  the  ship-master,  my 
•lord;  he  was  present,  and  can  testify." 

"  That  certainly  is  more  than  suspicious.  This  affair  must 
be  thoroughly  investigated.     Attention,  you  peoj^le!" 

"  There  comes  a  Christian  wench!"  cried  the  rope-maker. 

*'  The  lame  Martha;  I  know  her  well,"  broke  in  the  beg- 
gar. "  She  runs  mto  all  the  pest-houses,  and  jioisons  the  peo- 
ple. She  was  three  days  and  nights  at  my  brother's,  turning 
the  j^illows  for  the  children,  till  they  drove  her  out.  Wher- 
ever she  goes  there  is  death." 

Selene — now  called  Martha — paid  no  attention  to  the  crowd, 
but,  with  her  blind  brother  Helios — bearing  the  name  of  John 
— walked  quietly  along  the  path  leading  from  the  high  bank  to 
the  landiug-i^lace. 

She  wished  there  to  hire  a  boat,  which  would  take  her  to  a 
little  village  upon  an  island  ojiposite  the  city,  where  there 
were  sick  Christians,  who  needed  medicine  and  nursing. 

For  months  her  whole  life  had  been  devoted  to  the  suffer- 
ing. She  had  often  carried  helj)  into  heathen  families,  and 
shunned  neither  fever  nor  plague.  And  though,  for  that  rea- 
son, her  cheeks  had  not  become  rosy,  yet  from  her  eyes  there 
shone  a  pure,  mild  light  that  glorified  the  serene  beauty  of 
her  features. 

As  the  girl  came  nearer  to  the  captain,  he  fastened  his  eye 
upon  her,  and  cried: 

"  Hey!  pale  wench,  are  you  a  Christian?" 

*'  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Selene,  going  quietly  forward  with 
her  brother. 

The  Roman  looked  after  her,  and  as  she  ])assed  the  statue 


THE  EMPEROR.  361 

of  Hadrian,  with  her  head  a  little  more  bowed  than  before,  he 
commanded  her,  in  a  tone  of  authority,  to  stop  and  tell  him 
why  she  turned  her  face  from  the  image  of  the  emperor, 

"  Hadrian  is  our  master  as  well  as  yours.  I  am  in  haste, 
for  there  are  sick  people  on  the  island. " 

"  She  will  carry  them  no  good,"  cried  the  beggar.  "Who 
knows  what  is  hidden  in  her  basket?" 

"  Silence !''  broke  in  the  tribune. 

"They  say,  wench,  that  your  fellow-believers  threw  down 
the  emperor's  statue  last  night." 

"  How  can  that  be?  We  honor  the  emperor  not  less  than 
you  do." 

"I  wish  to  believe  you,  and  you  shall  prove  it.  There 
stands  the  statue  of  the  divine  Caesar;  follow  me  and  pray  to 
it." 

Selene  looked  with  terror  into  the  face  of  the  stern  man, 
but  could  not  speak.  "Well/' asked  he,  "will  you  follow 
me  or  not?" 

Selene  tried  to  be  self-possessed,  and  when  the  soldier 
stretched  out  his  hand  toward  her,  she  said,  with  trembling 
voice: 

"  We  honor  the  emperor,  but  pray  to  no  image;  only  to  our 
Father  in  heaven. " 

"  There  you  have  it!"  exulted  the  beggar. 

"  I  ask  once  more,"  cried  the  tribune,  "  will  you  worship 
this  image,  or  do  you  refuse  to  do  it?" 

In  Selene's  soul  there  rose  a  mighty  conflict.  To  resist  the 
Roman  was  to  endanger  her  owii  life  and  rouse  the  wrath  of 
the  i-»opulace  against  her  brethren  in  the  faith.  Yielding  to 
his  demand  would  be  blas^ihemy,  breaking  of  faith  toward  the 
Saviour  she  loved,  and  sinning  against  the  truth  and  her  own 
conscience.  A  frightful  anxiety  so  overcame  her  that  she  was 
unable  to  lift  her  heart  in  prayer.  She  could  not,  she  dared 
not,  do  what  was  required  of  her,  and  still  that  irrepressible 
love  of  life  in  every  mortal  drove  her  foot  forward  until  she 
stood  before  the  stone  idol. 

"  Raise  your  hands  and  worship  the  divine  Cfesar,"  cried 
the  tribune,  who  followed  her  motions  intently,  as  did  all 
present. 

She  set  her  basket  down  on  the  ground  and  tried  to  draw 
her  hand  out  of  her  brother's,  but  the  blind  boy  would  not 
loosen  his  hold.  He  certainly  knew  what  was  required  of  his 
sister ;  he  certainly  was  aware  from  the  history  of  many  martyrs 
that  had  been  read  to  him,  what  awaited  them  both  if  she 


364  TUE   EMI'EIIOR. 

spread  his  arms  around  one  of  the  pillars,  pressed  his  lips 
upon  the  rough  wooden  door,  and  let  his  head  beat  against  it, 
as  the  tearless  agony  of  his  soul  agitated  his  body.  For  a  few 
moments  he  stood  there,  and  did  not  hear  the  approach  of 
light  footsteps. 

It  was  Maria  who  came,  that  she  might  pray  once  more  be- 
side the  tomb  of  her  dearest  friend. 

She  recognized  the  youth  at  once,  and  lightly  called  his 
name. 

"Maria!"  he  exclaimed,  in  return,  and  seizing  her  hand, 
pressed  it  vehemently,  and  asked: 

"  How  did  she  die?" 

"  Slain,"  she  answered,  with  hollow  voice.  "  She  would 
not  worsliip  the  image  of  the  emperor. " 

"  Why  did  she  not?" 

"  Because  she  was  steadfast  in  her  faith,  and  hoped  in  the 
grace  of  the  Redeemer.     Now  she  is  a  blessed  angel. " 

"  Do  you  feel  sure  of  that?" 

"  As  sure  as  is  my  hope  to  meet  the  martyr  who  lies  here 
again  in  heaven." 

"  Maria!" 

"  Leave  my  hand  free!"  , 

"  Will  you  do  me  a  favor,  Maria?" 

"  Gladly,  Antinous;  but  please  do  not  touch  me." 

"  Take  this  money  and  buy  the  fairest  wreath  you  can  find. 
Hang  it  on  this  tomb,  and  cry  as  you  do  it,  '  From  Antinous 
to  Seleue!'  " 

Maria  took  the  money  the  youth  offered,  and  said: 

"  She  often  prayed  for  you." 

"  To  her  God?" 

' '  To  our  Eedeemer,  that  He  would  also  give  you  blessed- 
ness. She  died  for  Jesus  Christ;  now  she  is  with  Him,  and 
He  will  grant  her  prayer." 

Antinous  was  silent  a  long  time,  and  then  begged: 

"  Give  me  your  hand  once  more,  Maria,  and  now,  farewell. 
Will  you  think  khidly  of  me,  and  also  pray  for  me  to  your 
Eedeemer?" 

"  Yes,  surely;  and  you  will  not  forget  the  poor  cripple?" 

"  Certainly  not,  my  good  girl.  Perhaps  we  may  some  time 
meet  again." 

With  these  words  Antinous  hastened  down  the  hill  and 
through  the  city  toward  the  Nile. 

The  moon  hJul  risen  and  was  mirrored  in  the  quieted  water 
as  its  image  had  rested  upon  the  sea  when  Anthious  rescued 
Selene. 


THE   EMPEROE.  363 

Here  the  streets  seemed  like  abodes  of  the  dead.  Not  a  door 
ivas  open,  not  a  person  to  be  seen. 

Antinous  paid  the  boy,  sent  him  away,  and  went  with  beat- 
ing heart  from  one  house  to  another.  All  looked  neat,  and 
were  surrounded  with  trees  and  shrubbery;  and  although 
smoke  rose  above  many  roofs,  they  seemed  all  to  be  deserted. 
At  last  he  heard  voices,  and  guided  by  the  sound,  he  went 
through  a  narrow  street  to  an  oj)en  sjoace,  where  hundreds  of 
people — men,  women,  and  children — were  gathered  before  a 
little  house  that  stood  in  a  garden  of  palms.  He  asked  an  old 
man  for  the  dwelling  of  Hannah,  who  pointed  silently  toward 
the  building  which  seemed  the  center  of  all  attention. 

The  heart  of  the  youth  beat  tumultously,  and  still  he  felt 
anxious  and  embarrassed,  and  asked  himself  if  it  would  not  be 
better  to  turn  back  and  seek  the  sjaot  again  in  the  morning, 
when  Selene  might  be  alone.  But  no!  Perhaps  he  might 
now  be  permitted  to  see  her.  Modestly  making  his  way 
through  the  crowd,  who  were  singing  a  hymn,  from  which  he 
could  not  understand  whether  they  wished  to  express  sorrow 
or  joy,  he  reached  the  gate  of  the  garden  and  saw  the  deformed 
Maria.  She  was  kneeling  beside  a  covered  bier,  and  was 
weeping. 

Could  Hannah  be  dead?  No,  for  there  she  came  through 
the  door  of  her  dwelling,  leaning  upon  the  arm  of  an  old  man 
— pale,  collected,  and  without  tears. 

Both  advanced  a  little,  when  the  old  man  offered  a  short 
prayer,  and  bending  forward,  drew  the  covering  from  the  bier. 

Antinous  took  one  step  forward,  but  tottered  back  instantly, 
struck  his  hands  over  his  eyes,  and  stood  without  motion,  as  if 
rooted  to  the  sjjot.  There  was  no  vehement  lamentation. 
The  old  man  said  a  few  words  to  the  assembled  people. 

Around  him  there  was  subdued  weeping,  singing,  praying, 
but  Antinous  saw  and  heard  nothing  of  it  all.  His  hands 
had  dropped,  and  his  eyes  were  fastened  on  the  (;old,  white 
face,  until  Hannah  again  covered  it  with  a  cloth.  Even  then 
he  stood  motionless.  Only  after  six  young  women  had  lifted 
the  coffin  of  Selene,  and  four  mothers  that  of  the  little  Helios, 
upon  their  shoulders,  and  the  whole  company  had  gone  with 
them,  he  also  turned  and  followed  the  funeral  train. 

From  a  distance,  he  saw  both  larger  and  smaller  coffins  car- 
ried into  a  rocky  sepulcher,  the  door  closely  fastened,  and  the 
funeral  train  scattered  hither  and  thither. 

At  last  he  was  alone  before  tbo  (h)ov  of  the  tomb.  The  sun 
went  down  and  darkness  was  rapidly  descending  over  the  val- 
ley and  the  hills.     As  there  was  now  no  one  to  notice  him,  he 


363  THE   EMPEROR. 

continued  to  resist  the  demand  of  tlic  Tfoman,  but  he  had  no 
fear,  and  whispered  to  her: 

*' AVe  will  not  do  their  will,  Martha;  we.  will  not  pray  to 
idols,  but  be  faithful  to  the  Saviour.  Turn  me  away  from  the 
statue,  and  now  let  us  pray  '  Our  Father, 

In  a  loud  voice,  and  turning  his  sightless  eyeballs  toward 
heaven,  the  boy  offered  the  Lord's  Prayer.'' 

Selene  had  first  turned  him,  and  then  herself,  away  from 
the  idol  toward  the  stream,  and  followed,  with  lifted  hands, 
the  exam])le  of  her  brother.  Helios  chuig  fast  to  her,  her 
loud  prayer  mingled  Avith  his,  and  both  saw  and  heard  and 
felt  nothing  more  that  was  done  to  them.  To  the  bhnd  boy 
was  granted  a  vision  of  light  in  the  far  distance,  and  to  Selene 
was  given  an  earnest  of  that  blessed  state  where  she  would  be 
satisfied  with  the  fullness  of  love,  while  the  frantic  crowd 
dragged  her  to  the  earth  before  the  statue  of  Hadrian  and 
plunged  upon  the  body  of  the  faithful  boy. 

The  military  tribune  had  in  vain  attemj^ted  to  keep  back  the 
crowd,  and  when  at  last  the  soldiers  succeeded  in  separating 
them  from  their  victims,  the  two  young  hearts,  in  the  midst 
of  their  triumphant  faith,  and  the  hope  of  a  more  blessed  and 
unending  life,  had  already  ceased  to  beat. 

This  occurrence  vexed  the  tribune  and  filled  him  with  anx- 
iety. This  young  woman,  this  fair  child,  whose  cor^jses  lay 
there  before  him,  had  deserved  a  better  fate,  and  he  might  be 
called  to  answer  for  their  death,  for  the  law  ordained  that  no 
Christian  should  be  punished  on  account  of  his  faith  without  a 
judicial  sentence.  So  he  commanded  that  the  bodies  should 
be  carried  to  the  house  where  they  belonged,  and  threatened  a 
heavy  punishment  to  any  one  who  should  that  day  enter  the 
Christian  quarter.  The  beggar  went  shouting  before  the  bier 
into  the  house  of  his  brother,  to  announce  to  the  wife  of  the 
same  the  fact  that  the  lame  Martha,  who  had  nursed  her 
daughters  to  death,  had  been  slain.  But  he  reajied  a  poor  re- 
ward, for  the  poor  woman  mourned  Selene  as  she  had  her  own 
children,  and  cursed  both  him  and  her  murderers. 

Hadrian  arrived  at  Besa  before  sunset,  and  found  there  mag- 
nificent tents  prepared  for  his  reception  and  that  of  liis 
retinue.  The  accident  which  had  befallen  his  statue  was  con- 
cealed from  him,  but  he  felt  anxious  and  ill.  Wishing  to  be 
entirely  alone,  he  sent  Antinous  out  to  get  a  look  at  the  city 
before  it  should  be  dark. 

The  Bithynian  accepted  the  permission  with  joy,  as  a  gift 
from  the  gods,  hastened  through  the  decorated  part  of  the 
city,  and  was  conducted  by  the  boy  to  the  Christian  quarter. 


THE   EMPEROR.  365 

The  youth  knew  the  emperor  would  be  expecting  him,  but 
he  did  not  return  to  the  tent.  Violent  agitation  had  overmas- 
tered him.  Restlessly  he  paced  the  bank  of  the  stream  and 
reviewed  the  prominent  events  of  his  own  life.  Every  word  of 
the  conversation  with  Hadrian  on  the  previous  evening  re- 
turned so  vividly  that  he  seemed  to  hear  it  a  second  time.  He 
saw,  in  imagination,  the  modest  home  of  Bithynia;  his  darling 
mother,  and  the  brothers  and  sisters  he  would  never  look  upon 
more.  Again  he  recalled  the  terrible  hour  in  which  he  had  de- 
ceived the  best  of  masters  and  become  an  incendiary.  Then 
a  fearful  dread  seized  him,  as  the  thought  of  Hadrian's  wish  to 
set  him  in  the  place  of  the  man  whom  the  wise  monarch  had 
perhaps  nominated  to  be  his  own  successor,  in  consequence  of 
that  interference,  overpowered  his  mind.  He,  Antinous,  who 
could  not  plan  from  one  day  to  another,  and  went  away  from 
profound  discussions  between  serious  men  because  he  was  unable 
to  follow  them — he,  who  knew  only  to  obey;  he,  who  was 
never  satisfied,  except  when  alone  with  his  master  and  his 
dreams,  and  far  away  from  the  tumult  of  the  world;  he,  to  be 
burdened  with  the  purple,  the  cares,  and  mountain-weight  of 
its  responsibility!  No,  this  thought  was  intolerable,  was  fright- 
ful; and  yet  Hadrian  never  gave  ujo  any  wish  he  had  expressed 
in  words.  The  future  appeared  to  him  like  a  threatening  fiend. 
Pain,  unrest,  misfortune,  stared  into  his  face,  turn  which 
way  he  would.  What  was  the  terrible  calamity  that  threat- 
ened his  master? 

It  was  approaching — it  must  come — unless  some  one  could 
be  found  to  step  between  him  and  destiny,  and  receive  in  liis 
own  breast,  in  his  own  waiting  heart,  the  spear  hurled  by  a 
wrathful  God. 

He  was  the  one — the  only  one  to  do  this!  As  a  sudden  blaze 
of  light,  this  thought  flashed  into  his  soul.  And  should  he 
have  the  courage  to  ofiier  himself,  to  devote  his  own  life  for 
his  dear  master,  then  would  every  wrong  toward  him  be 
royally  expiated — then,  then — oh,  how  wonderful,  oh,  how 
glorious! — then  he  might  perhaps  find  entrance  within  the 
gates  of  that  blessed  world  which  the  prayers  of  Selene  had 
opened  for  him,  then  he  might  indeed  see  the  dear  mother 
again  and  the  father,  and  some  time  the  brothers  and  sisters 
also — but  now — within  an  hour — perhaps,  in  a  moment,  her 
whom  he  loved  and  who  had  gone  on  before  him  to  death! 

8ucli  an  irradiation  of  hope  his  soul  had  never  before  known. 

There  lay  the  Nile,  there  was  a  boat!  Ho  plunged  into  the 
ivater,  and  with  the  same  vigorous  leap  with  which  he  was 
Wont  to  spring  from  rock  to  rock  in  the  chase,  jumped  into 


366  THE   EMPEROR. 

the  boat.  Already  he  had  seized  the  oars  when  Mastor,  whom 
the  emjDcror  had  sent  out  to  seek  him,  recognized  him  in  the 
moonlight,  and  desired  him  to  return  to  the  tent. 

Antinous  did  not  follow,  but  cried,  as  he  rowed  further  out 
into  the  stream: 

"  Greet  the  master,  sahite  him  thousands  and  thousands  of 
times  from  me,  and  say  to  him  that  Antinous  loved  him  more 
than  his  own  life.  Destiny  demands  a  victim.  The  w'orld 
can  not  do  without  Hadrian,  but  Antinous  is  a  poor  nothing 
whom  no  one  will  miss  but  his  emperor,  and  for  him  Antinous 
throws  himself  upon  the  altar  of  sacrifice. " 

"  Hold,  unhappy  one;  turn  back!'^  cried  the  slave,  and 
threw  himself  into  a  boat,  but  that  of  the  Bithynian  flew,  im- 
pelled by  powerful  strokes,  swifter  and  swifter,  with  the  cur- 
rent. Master  used  all  the  strength  of  his  arms  to  overtake  the 
boat,  but  could  not  get  near. 

In  this  wild  race  both  reached  the  middle  of  the  stream, 
when  the  slave  saw  the  oars  of  the  Bithynian  suddenly  fly  into 
the  air,  and  a  moment  later  heard  the  voice  of  Antinous  call 
aloud  the  name  of  •'  Selene,"  and  was  forced,  in  helpless  in- 
activity, to  see  the  youth  plunge  into  the  waves,  and  the  Nile 
swallow  in  its  flood  that  fairest  of  all  sacrifices. 


CHAPTEE  XXn. 

A  NIGHT  and  the  half  of  anotber  day  had  passed  since  the 
death  of  the  Bithynian.  Boats  and  water  craft  from  all  the 
province  were  collected  before  Besa,  to  seek  the  body  of  the 
drowned  youth;  the  shore  swarmed  with  human  beings;  pans 
of  burning  pitch  and  torches  eclipsed  the  light  of  the  moon 
with  their  glare,  but  they  found  not  the  fair  corpse. 

Hadrian  knew  how  Antinous  had  died.  Master  had  more 
than  0}ice  repeated  to  him  the  last  words  of  his  faithful  friend, 
adding  nothing,  and  holding  back  nothing.  The  emperor's 
memory  retained  them  all  and  he  sat  until  morning,  and 
again  from  morning  till  the  sun  reached  its  meridian,  rejieat- 
ing  them  over  to  himself.  He  brooded  thus  without  food  or 
drink. 

The  threatened  calamity  had  fallen;  and  what  a  calamity! 
If  destiny  accepted  this  sutferiug,  wiiich  now  filled  his  soul,  in 
place  of  any  other  misfortune,  he  might  reckon  on  years  of 
freedom,  but  it  truly  seemed  to  him  that  he  would  rather  live 
the  rest  of  his  days  in  wretchedness  and  want  witli  his  An- 
tinous than  without  him  to  enjoy  all  that  men  count  pros- 
perity, joy  and  well-being. 


THE  EMPEilOit.  36t 

Sabiua,  Avith  her  own  and  his  retinue,  had  arrived — a  crowd 
of  beings — but  he  strictly  declined  seeing  one  of  them;  not 
even  his  wife  was  admitted  to  his  presence. 

The  relief  of  tears  was  denied  him,  but  the  pahi  which 
agonized  his  heart  and  filled  his  spirit  with  gloom  made  him 
so  irritable  that  even  a  familiar  voice,  heard  at  a  distance,  dis- 
turbed and  made  him  angry. 

Those  who  had  arrived  on  the  ships  dared  not  approach  the 
tents  jjrejjared  for  their  reception,  because  he  wished  to  be 
alone  in  his  anguish. 

Mastor,  whom  he  had  heretofore  looked  on  as  a  useful  chat- 
tel more  than  a  human  being,  now  seemed  nearer,  because  he 
had  been  the  only  witness  of  his  darling's  departure. 

Toward  tlie  close  of  this  most  miserable  of  nights  the  slave 
asked  if  he  should  not  call  the  physician  from  the  shij:),  be- 
cause Hadrian  looked  so  pale;  but  he  forbade  it,  saying: 

''  Could  I  only  weep  as  women  do,  or  as  other  fathers  from 
whom  death  has  torn  away  their  sons,  that  would  be  my  best 
medicine.  It  will  be  hard  for  you  poor  people  now,  for  the 
sun  of  my  life  has  lost  its  brightness  and  the  trees  along  my 
path  their  verdure. " 

AY  hen  again  alone  he  stared  into  vacancy  and  murmured  to 
himself: 

"  All  humanity  will  mourn  with  me,  for  yesterday,  when 
one  asked  what  beauty  was  possible  to  the  race,  they  could 
point  proudly  to  thee,  my  faithful  comrade,  and  say:  '  Behold 
godlike  beauty. '  Now  the  crown  has  been  severed  from  the 
trunk  of  the  jjalm,  and  the  mutilated  thing  is  ashamed  of  its 
own  ughness.  Were  all  mortality  but  one  person  it  would  to- 
day seem  like  a  man  whose  right  eye  had  been  torn  from  his 
head.  I  will  not  look  upon  the  haggard  and  shapeless  thing, 
lest  it  destroy  in  me  the  taste  for  real  beauty.  Oh,  thou 
faithful,  thou  true,  thou  beautiful  companion,  what  a  mistaken 
frenzy  possessed  thee!  And  still  I  can  not  blame  thy  folly. 
Thou  hast  smitten  my  soul  with  the  deepest  of  all  woimds,  and 
still  I  can  not  be  angry  with  thee;  verily,  thy  loyalty  was  su- 
perhuman, it  was  godlike!'' 

With  these  words  he  rose  and  said,  in  a  firm,  resolute  voice : 

"  Hear  me,  ye  immortals,  as  I  stretch  out  my  hand;  every 
city  in  the  empire  shall  erect  an  altar  to  Antinous.  The  friend 
of  whom  you  robbed  me  I  will  make  your  comj)anion.  /Re- 
ceive him  kindly,  ye  immortal  rulers  of  the  world!  Who 
among  you  can  boast  of  beauty  that  exceeds  his?  And  who 
among  you  all  has  shown  me  such  goodness  and  faithfulness  as 
this  your  new  associate?'' 


368  THE   ESrPEROR. 

Tliis  vow  seemed  to  do  Iladrian  good.  With  a  firm  tread 
lie  paced  liis  tent  for  lialf  an  hour,  and  tlien  called  Heliodorus, 
liis  private  secretary,  M-ho  brought  jiarcliment  and  wrote  what 
liis  lord  dictated. 

This  was  notliing  less  than  a  loroclamatiou  that  in  Antinous 
the  world  possessed  a  new  divinity. 

In  the  afternoon  a  breathless  messenger  brought  tidings  that 
the  body  of  the  Bithynian  had  been  found.  Thousands  has- 
tened to  look  at  it,  and  among  them  came  Balbilla,  who  had 
behaved  like  a  person  distracted  since  learning  the  fate  of  her 
idol.  She  had  hastened  up  and  down  the  bank  in  garments  of 
mourning  and  with  loosened  hair. 

The  Egyptians  likened  her  to  Isis  searching  for  the  body  of 
her  beloved  husband  Osiris. 

She  abandoned  herself  to  grief,  and  her  comj^anion  vainly 
implored  her  to  remember  her  rank  and  her  womanly  dignity. 
Balbilla  pushed  her  violently  away,  and  when  the  tidings  came 
that  the  Nile  had  relinquished  its  jjrey  she  hastened  on  foot, 
and  in  the  midst  of  the  crowd,  toward  the  corpse. 

Her  name  was  known  to  all,  and  being  recognized  as  a  friend 
of  the  emijress,  willing  obedience  was  rendered  when  she  com- 
manded those  laeariug  the  bier  on  which  the  rescued  body  lay 
to  set  it  down  upon  the  ground  and  remove  the  covering. 

Pale  and  trembUng,  she  came  forward  and  turned  her  eyes 
upon  it;  but  for  only  one  short  moment  was  able  to  bear  the 
sight.  She  turned  away  shuddering,  and  commanded  the 
bearers  to  go  forward. 

As  the  mourning  train  disappeared,  and  she  could  no  longer 
hear  the  shrill  cries  of  the  Egyptian  women,  or  see  them,  as 
they  walked  with  hair  and  brow  and  breast  daubed  with  the 
dampened  soil,  and  their  arms  flung  wildly  into  the  air,  she 
turned  to  her  companion,  and  said  quietly:  "  Let  us  go  home, 
Claudia. "  At  the  evening  meal  she  appeared  dressed  in 
black,  as  were  Sabina  and  all  her  company,  but  calm  and 
]-eady  to  answer  every  question  addressed  to  her. 

The  arcliitect  Pontius  traveled  in  her  company  from  Thebes 
to  Besa. 

She  had  omitted  nothijig  that  could  punish  him  for  the  long 
delay,  and  had,  without  mercy,  insisted  upon  his  hearing  all 
her  verses  to  Antinous. 

He  liad  listened  to  them  quietly,  and  expressed  his  opinions 
of  tliem  exa(;tly  as  if  they  had  been  addressed  to  an  image  or  a 
god  instead  of  a  living  man.  Tliis  epigram  was  praised,  that 
criticised,  another  condemned.     To  her  confession,  that  sh« 


THE  EMPEROR.  S69 

had  been  in  tlie  habit  of  sending  him  fruit  and  flowers,  he  had 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  said,  kindly: 

"Go  on  giving  him  the  same  attentions.  I  know  that 
from  this  god  you  expect  no  favors  in  return  for  your  offer- 
ings.'' 

This  word  surprised  and  pleased  her.  Pontius  always  under- 
stood her.  She  allowed  him  to  look  into  her  soul,  and  told 
him  how  much  she  loved  Antinous  when  he  was  absent,  and 
laughingly  added  that  she  became  utterly  indifferent  so  soon 
as  he  appeared. 

As  she  utterly  lost  her  self-control  after  his  death,  Pontius 
left  her  alone  and  begged  Claudia  to  do  likewise. 

On  the  day  after  its  discovery  the  body  was  burned  upon 
costly  wood.  Hadrian  refused  to  see  it  after  learning  that  the 
water  had  changed  the  appearance  of  his  darling. 

A  few  hours  after  the  ashes  of  the  Bithynian  had  been  col- 
lected in  a  golden  vase  and  brought  to  Hadrian,  the  Nile  fleet, 
which  this  time  bore  also  the  emjDeror,  set  sail  for  Alexandria. 

The  monarch  remained  with  only  his  slave  and  his  secretary 
upon  the  boat  that  carried  him.  Sometimes  he  sent  for  Pon- 
tius to  visit  him,  and  heard  gladly  his  deep  voice  as  they  dis- 
cussed either  the  plans  for  his  mausoleum  at  Eome,  or  the 
memorial  monument  he  projDOsed  to  erect,  after  a  design  of  his 
own,  in  the  larger  city  to  be  founded  on  the  site  of  Besa,  and 
which  he  already  called  Antinoe. 

But  these  interviews  occupied  only  a  few  hours,  and  Pontius 
was  then  at  liberty  to  return  to  the  company  of  Balbilla  on 
the  shij)  of  Sabina. 

A  few  days  after  they  left  Besa  he  sat  one  evening  alone 
with  her  on  the  deck  of  the  vessel,  that,  carried  forward  by 
the  current  and  propelled  by  a  hundred  oars,  was  rapidly  near- 
ing  its  destination.  Since  the  unfortunate  death  of  the 
favorite,  Pontius  had  carefully  avoided  speaking  of  him  to 
Balbilla. 

But  now  she  had  become  attentive  and  social  as  before,  and 
sometimes  a  sparkle  of  the  old  cheerfulness  ajDjjeared  in  her 
eyes.  Pontius  thought  he  understood  her  varying  moods,  and 
did  not  touch  upon  the  cause  of  the  violent  but  quickly  extin- 
guished fever  from  which  she  had  suffered. 

"  What  have  you  been  discussing  with  the  emperor  to-day?" 
asked  Balbilla. 

Pontius  looked  at  the  deck  for  a  moment,  considering 
whether  he  should  utter  the  name  of  Antinous.  She  noticed 
Jiis  hesitation,  and  said: 


370  niE  EMPEROR. 

"You  can  speak;  I  am  able  to  hear  all.  That  foolishness 
is  past. " 

"  The  emperor  is  at  work  upon  plans  for  buildmg  a  new 
city  to  be  called  Antinoe,  and  also  a  memorial  monument  to 
his  poor  favorite,"  answered  Pontius.  "  He  will  not  let  any 
one  help  him;  but  I  must  show  him  the  difference  between  the 
possible  and  the  impossible." 

"  He  looks  up  at  the  stars,  and  you  at  the  road  on  which 
you  are  walking." 

"  An  architect  can  not  use  that  which  totters  or  does  not 
stand  upon  firm  ground. " 

"  That  is  a  hard  word,  Pontius.  I  have  certainly  behaved 
very  foolishly  within  these  last  weeks." 

"  Would  that  all  the  wavering  might  recover  their  equilib- 
rium as  quickly  and  so  solidly  as  you  do!  Antinous  was  a 
demi-god  in  beauty,  and  a  brave,  honest  fellow  besides.  ■" 

"  Do  not  say  any  more  to  me  of  him,"  said  Balbilla,  shud- 
dering.  ' '  His  look  was  horrible.  Can  you  forgive  my  conduct?" 

"  I  have  never  been  angry  with  you." 

"  But  you  have  withdrami  your  respect. " 

"  No,  Balbilla.  The  beauty  so  dear  to  all,  as  a  kiss  of  the 
muse,  enticed  the  light-winged  poetic  soul  to  fly  out  of  the 
right  path.  Let  her  fly!  The  noble  womanhood  of  my  friend 
was  never  carried  after  it.  That  stands  on  firm  groimd,  I  am 
sure." 

"  What  a  good,  kind  word!  But  it  is  too  good  and  too  kind! 
I  am  a  poor  creature,  moved  by  every  breeze,  a  vain  fool  who 
knows  not  in  this  hour  what  it  may  need  in  the  next — a  spoiled 
child  who  loves  to  do  what  it  ought  not,  a  weak  girl  who  finds 
pleasure  in  opposing  the  o2)inions  of  men.     For  all  in  all — " 

"  For  all  in  all  a  gentle  favorite  of  the  gods,  who  to-day 
climbs  the  rocks  with  a  vigorous  step,  and  to-morrow  tends 
the  flowers  in  the  sunshine — for  all  in  all  a  being  unlike  every 
other,  Avanting  for  the  perfection  of  womanhood  only — " 

"  I  know  what  I  need,"  cried  Balbilla;  "  a  strong  man  on 
whom  I  can  relv,  whose  warnings  I  should  heed.  You — you 
are  that  man.  Vou,  and  no  other,  for  when  with  you  it  is 
hard  to  do  anything  else  than  Miiat  is  right.  Here  I  am,  Pon- 
tius. Will  you  have  me,  with  all  my  caprices,  my  faults  and 
my  weaknesses?" 

"Balbilla,"  exclaimed  the  architect,  beside  himself  with 
profound  astonishment,  and  pressed  her  hand  long  and  fervent- 
ly to  his  lips. 

"  You  will?  You  will  have  me?  You  will  never  desert 
me;  will  warn,  su^jport  and  protect  me?" 


THE    EMPEROR.  371 

"  Till  the  end  of  my  life,  even  nuto  death,  as  my  child,  as 
my  own  eyes— as — dare  I  then  say  and  believe — as  my  beloved, 
my  other  self,  my  ^\^ife!^' 

'•  Oh,  Pontius,  Pontius!"  she  returned,  and  pressed  his 
strong  hand  in  both  her  own.  "  This  hour  gives  to  the 
orphaned  Balbilla  father  and  mother  again,  and  besides  that, 
the  husband  she  loves!" 

"Mine,  mine!'^  cried  the  architect.  "Oh,  eternal  gods! 
all  my  life  long  I  have  not  found  time  to  enjoy  the  blessings 
of  love,  and  now  you  grant  me  the  treasure  so  long  withheld 
with  interest  and  compound  interest." 

"  And  can  you,  a  reasonable  man,  so  overestimate  the  value 
of  your  jewel?  You  will  find  something  good  in  it,  and  life 
is  no  longer  worth  living  without  its  j^ossessor. " 

"  And  to  me  it  has  long  seemed  cold  and  desolate  without 
you,  strange,  unique,  incomparable  creature!" 

"  But  why  did  you  not  come  sooner,  and  save  me  from  be- 
ing such  a  fool?" 

"  Because,  because,"  answered  Pontius,  earnestly,  "  a  flight 
toward  the  sun  seemed  to  me  too  bold;  because  I  remembered 
that  my  father's  father — " 

"■  He  was  the  noblest  man  whom  the  ancestor  of  my  family 
attracted  toward  its  greatness." 

"  He  was — consider  it  well  in  this  hour — your  grandfather's 
slave. ' ' 

''I  know  that;  but  I  know  also  that  no  man  on  earth  is 
worthier  of  freedom  than  you  are,  and  whom  I  could  so  hum- 
bly ask,  as  I  ask  you :  Take  me,  the  poor  foolish  Balbilla,  to 
be  your  wife;  lead  me  and  make  of  me  what  I  am  capable  of 
being  to  your  honor  and  my  own." 

The  rapid  voyage  brought  to  Pontius  and  his  beloved  hours 
and  days  of  highest  happiness.  Before  the  fleet  entered  the 
harbor  of  Mareotis,  Pontius  revealed  his  happy  secret  to  the 
emperor.  Hadrian  smiled,  for  the  first  time  since  the  death 
of  Antinous,  and  asked  Pontius  to  bring  Balbilla  to  him. 

"  I  have  poorly  interpreted  the  Pythian  oracle,"  said  he, 
after  laying  the  hand  of  the  poetess  into  that  of  the  architect. 

*'  Do  you  wish  to  know,  Pontius,  how  it  runs?" 

"  You  need  not  help  me,  dear  child.  "Whatever  I  read  once 
or  twice  I  never  forget.     Pythia  said: 

"  '  Whiit  to  thee  was  dearest  and  highest,  that  thou  shalt  lose, 
And  from  Olympian  heiglits  descend  to  eartli  beneath; 
But  under  the  rtying  dust,  a  careful  look  wiU  discover 
Solid  buikling  of  stone,  with  marble  and  rocky  fouadation.'  " 


372  THE   EMPEROR. 

"  You  have  chosen  wisel}',  girl;  the  oracle  assures  your 
treading  a  firm  road  through  life.  As  to, the  dust  of  which  it 
speaks,  that  is  in  a  certain  sense  inevitable;  but  this  hand 
Avields  a  broom  which  can  sv/eep  it  away.  Celebrate  your 
Avodding  in  Alexandria,  so  soon  as  3'ou  please,  but  afterward 
you  must  go  to  Rome.  I  shall  make  that  condition.  I  have 
long  wished  to  introduce  new  and  worthy  members  to  the  rank 
of  knighthood,  for  only  thus  can  its  fallen  dignity  be  restored. 
This  ring  makes  you  a  knight,  my  Pontius;  and  for  such  a 
man  as  you  are,  and  the  husband  of  Balbilla,  we  shall  find 
later  a  i)lace  in  the  Senate.  As  to  what  there  may  be  of 
'  marble  and  rocky  foundation  '  in  our  time,  you  can  show  in 
the  building  of  my  mausoleum.  Have  you  changed  the  plan 
of  the  bridge?" 


CHAPTER  XXm. 

The  news  of  the  recognition  of  the  "  false  Eros  "  as  suc- 
cessor of  Hadrian  was  received  with  rejoicing,  and  again  the 
citizens  used  their  o^^portuuity  to  hold  a  succession  of  feasts. 
Titiajius  took  pains  to  see  that  the  usual  acts  of  grace  were 
performed,  and  among  these  was  the  opening  of  the  prison  of 
Canop'AS,  which  made  Pollux  free. 

The  unfortunate  sculptor  had  become  very  pale  during  his 
imprisonment,  but  neither  emaciated  or  j)hysically  debilitated, 
while  the  freshness  of  his  disposition,  his  joyous  courage  and 
originality,  seemed  utterly  broken.  His  features — while  on 
the  way  from  Canopus  to  Alexandria  in  his  torn  and  soiled 
chiton — ex23ressed  neither  gratitude  for  the  imexpected  gift  of 
liberty,  nor  pleasure  in  the  anticipated  meeting  wath  his  own 
relatives  and  with  Arsinoe.  He  went  from  one  street  of  the 
city  to  another  with  unsympathetic  indifl'erence;  but  he  knew 
the  way,  and  his  feet  took  the  path  leading  to  the  house  of  his 
sister. 

How  Diotima  rejoiced,  how  the  children  shouted,  how  im- 
patient they  all  were  to  lead  him  to  the  old  people !  How  high 
the  Graces  leaped  to  welcome  the  wanderer  to  the  new  home 
of  Euphorion! 

And  Doris! — poor  Doris  almost  lost  her  senses  in  the  joy- 
ous suri)rise,  and  her  husband  was  obliged  to  catch  her  in  his 
arms,  as  her  long-missing  and  yet  never  given-ujs  son,  stood 
suddeidy  before  her,  and  said,  inditi'erently: 

"  Here  I  am." 

How  tenderly  they  kissed  and  caressed  the  beloved  fugitive 
returned  at  last !     Eujjhorion  exjn'essed  his  joy  in  both  prose 


THE   EMPEROR.  373 

and  verse,  and  brought  his  handsomest  theatrical  robes  out  of 
the  trunk  to  rejjlace  the  torn  cliiton  ol'  his  son. 

A  vigorous  stream  of  imj^recations  and  maledictions  poured 
from  his  lips  as  Pollux  related  his  story. 

It  was  difficult  to  get  through  with  it,  so  often  did  his  father 
interrupt  and  his  mother  constrain  him  to  eat  and  drink  far 
beyond  his  jjower.  Even  after  he  assured  her  that  he  was 
satiated,  she  put  two  new  pots  on  the  fire,  for  she  was  sure  he 
must  have  been  starved  in  the  prison  and  would  be  ready  to 
eat  again  within  two  hours.  Euphorion  himself  took  him  to 
the  bath  in  the  evening,  and  would  not  leave  liis  side  for  a  mo- 
ment on  the  return  home.  The  consciousness  of  his  presence 
was  like  an  agreeable  jjhysical  sensation.  Usually,  Euphorion 
was  not  inquisitive,  but  now  he  could  not  cease  asking  ques- 
tions, until  Doris  led  her  son  to  the  freshly  prepared  bed. 

After  he  had  retired,  Doris  came  again  into  his  chamber, 
kissed  him  on  the  forehead,  and  said: 

"  To-day  you  are  thinking  too  much  of  that  terrible  j^rison; 
but  to-morrow,  my  boy,  will  you  not  be  yourself  once  more?" 

"  Let  me  rest  now,  mother,  I  shall  be  better,'^  he  replied. 
"  Such  a  bed  is  a  sleeping  potion;  the  rough  plank  in  the 
prison  was  different." 

"  You  have  asked  nothing  of  your  Arsinoe,"  said  Doris. 

"  What  have  I  to  do  with  her?    Now  let  me  sleep." 

On  the  next  morning  Pollux  was  just  as  he  had  been  on  the 
previous  evening,  and  for  many  days  his  condition  remained 
unchanged. 

He  hung  his  head,  spoke  only  when  questioned,  and  if  Doris 
or  Euphorion  attempted  to  speak  with  him  of  the  future,  he 
would  ask: 

'^  Am  I  a  burden  to  you?"  or  say,  "You  ought  not  to 
trouble  me. " 

Yet  he  was  kind,  took  the  children  of  his  sister  into  his  arms, 
played  with  the  Graces,  walked  up  and  down,  and  did  justice 
to  the  food  set  before  him.  Now  and  then  he  asked  about 
Arsinoe.  Once  he  allowed  himself  to  be  led  to  her  dwelling, 
but  did  not  knock  on  the  door  of  Paulina,  and  seemed  to  be 
frightened  by  the  grand  house. 

After  being  inactive  a  week,  and  so  sluggish  and  indolent 
and  indisposed  to  exertion  that  the  heart  of  his  mother  was 
filled  with  anxiety  as  she  looked  at  him,  Teuker  suggested  a 
happy  thought. 

The  young  gem-cutter  had  not  of  late  been  a  frequent  guest 
in  the  house  of  his  parents,  but  since  his  brother's  return  he 
came  almost  daily.     His  term  of  apprenticeship  was  over,  and 


374  THE   EMPEROR. 

he  seemed  on  the  way  to  become  a  master  of  his  art.  Never- 
theless, he  considered  his  brother's  natural  gifts  to  be  much 
superior  to  his  own,  and  tried  by  every  means  to  awaken  his 
dormant  energies. 

"At  this  table/' he  said  to  his  mother,  "  Pollux  used  to 
work.  This  evening  I  will  bring  a  lump  of  clay  and  a  good 
piece  of  wax.  You  shall  place  them  here,  and  lay  his  tools 
and  implements  beside  them.  Perhaps  the  sight  of  these 
things  may  waken  his  old  love  for  sculpture.  Let  him  make 
only  a  doll  for  the  children,  he  would  get  into  the  sjjirit  of  the 
thing,  and  soon  go  from  the  smaller  to  the  larger. '' 

Teukcr  brought  the  articles,  and  Doris  placed  them  on  the 
table  with  the  imijlements  for  work,  and  watched  the  conduct 
of  her  son  next  morning  with  a  beating  heart. 

He  rose  late,  as  he  had  done  every  morning  since  his  return, 
and  sat  long  before  the  bowl  of  soup  his  mother  had  provided 
for  his  breakfast.  Then  he  strolled  over  to  the  table,  and 
stopping  before  it,  took  a  bit  of  the  clay  into  his  hand;,  rolling 
it  between  his  fingers  into  little  balls  and  cylinders,  brought  it 
close  to  his  eye  for  scrutiny,  then  threw  it  upon  the  floor,  and 
said,  Avhile  he  rested  both  hands  on  the  table,  and  leaned  over 
to  his  mother: 

"  You  want  to  have  me  work  again,  but  I  can  not.  I  should 
accomplish  nothing. " 

Tears  came  into  the  eyes  of  the  old  woman,  but  she  made 
no  reply. 

Toward  evening  Pollux  begged  her  to  put  away  the  tools. 
After  he  had  gone  to  rest  she  did  so,  and  while  moving  about 
in  the  dark  lumber-room  where  she  kej)t  them  with  all  sorts 
of  unused  tilings,  the  light  she  carried  fell  uj^on  the  jjartly 
finished  wax  model,  which  had  been  the  last  work  of  her  un- 
fortunate son. 

This  suggested  a  new  idea.  She  called  Euphorion,  and  bade 
him  throw  the  clay  into  the  court,  and  place  the  model  on  the 
table,  near  the  wax.  Then  she  placed  the  very  imjolements  he 
had  used  on  the  fateful  day  of  their  expulsion  from  the 
Lochias  near  to  the  well-begun  image,  and  requested  her  hus- 
band to  leave  the  house  M'ith  her  early  in  the  morning,  and  re- 
main away  until  afternoon. 

"  It  may  be,"  she  said,  '*  when  he  sees  his  last  work,  if  no 
one  is  near  to  distract,  or  to  notice  what  he  does,  that  he  may 
find  and  gather  up  the  scattered  threads  again  and  go  on  with 
the  work  where  he  left  it." 

The  mother  heart  had  hit  upon  the  true  idea. 

After  Pollux  Jind  taken  hia  soup,  he  went,  as  on  the  day  be- 


IrME  EMPEKOK.  3^5 

fore,  to  the  table,  but  the  sight  of  liis  last  work  had  quiet  a 
different  effect  upon  him  from  the  crude  mass  of  clay  and  wax. 
His  eye  brightened.  With  careful  scrutiny  he  walked  around 
the  table  and  examined  the  work  as  carefully  as  though  for  the 
first  time  inspecting  some  new  and  beautiful  object.  Memories 
awoke  within  him.  He  laughed  aloud;  he  struck  his  hands 
together  and  said  to  himself: 

"  Magnificent!     Something  can  be  made  out  of  that  thing!'* 

His  lassitude  disajipeared,  a  confident  smile  played  about  his 
lips,  and  he  plimged  his  hand  firmly  into  the  wax.  But  he  did 
not  at  once  begin  the  work.  He  tested  the  power  of  his  fin- 
gers to  mold  the  pliant  stuff  according  to  his  will.  The  wax 
was  no  less  obedient  to  his  bending  and  twisting  than  in 
former  days.  Perhaps,  then,  the  anxiety  which  had  consumed 
his  life — the  fear  that  he  had  utterly  lost  his  skill  and  his 
claim  to  be  a  sculptor  while  in  the  prison  was  only  a  baseless 
delusion! 

He  would  at  least  try  how  it  would  go. 

No  one  was  there  to  notice  him,  and  he  might  venture. 

Great  drops  of  anxiety  stood  in  beads  upon  his  forehead  as 
he  at  last  concentrated  the  power  of  his  will,  threw  back  his 
hair  in  the  old  way,  and  seized  with  both  hands  a  large  piece 
of  wax. 

There  stood  the  model  for  the  statue  of  Antinous,  partly 
finished.  Could  he  succeed  in  copying  that  beautiful  head 
off-hand? 

His  breath  came  quicker  and  his  fingers  trembled  at  the  out- 
set. But  soon  liis  hand  gained  its  old  firmness,  his  eye  became 
keen  and  steady,  and  the  work  made  good  progress. 

The  handsome  face  of  the  Bithynian  stood  clearly  before  his 
inner  eye;  and  when,  four  hours  later,  his  mother  looked  in  at 
the  window  to  see  how  her  device  had  succeeded,  she  gave  a 
loud  exclamation  of  surprise — for  there,  alike  in  every  feature, 
stood  the  head  of  Antinous,  upon  a  support,  near  to  the  partly 
finished  model. 

Before  she  had  crossed  the  threshold  her  son  rushed  to- 
ward her,  lifted  her  up  in  his  arms,  kissed  her  on  lips  and  fore- 
head, and  cried,  beaming  with  joy: 

"  Mother,  I  can  work!     Mother,  mother,  I  am  not  lost!*' 

Later  in  the  afternoon  Teuker  came  in  and  saw  what  he  had 
done,  and,  for  the  first  time,  really  rejoiced  in  his  brother's 
reappearance. 

While  the  two  artists  sat  together,  and  Teuker  suggested,  in 
rcjily  to  the  complaints  of  Pollux  about  the  poor  light  in  the 
liouse  of  his  parents,  that  he  finish  his  statue  in  the  workshop 


376  THE  EMPEROR. 

of  his,  Teuker's,  master,  Eiqjhoriou,  climbing  silently  to  the 
liighest  shelf  of  his  provision  shed,  brought  to  light  an  am- 
phora, filled  with  noble  Chian  wine,  which  had  been  given  to 
liim  by  a  rich  merchant,  for  whoso  weddi)ig  feast  he  had  com- 
mitted the  part  of  Hymeuanis  in  a  choir  of  youths.  For 
twenty  years  this  jar  had  been  preserved  for  some  especially 
happy  occasion.  This,  and  his  best  lute,  were  the  only  articles 
which  Euphorion  carried  with  his  own  hand  to  the  house  of 
Diotima  from  the  Lochias,  and  thence  to  his  new  home. 

With  dignified  pride  the  musician  placed  the  ancient  am- 
phora before  his  sons,  but  Doris  quickly  covered  it  with  her 
hands,  and  said: 

"  I  do  not  grudge  the  good  gift,  and  would  gladly  drink  a 
cup  with  you  now;  but  a  shrewd  general  does  not  celebrate  hia 
victory  before  the  battle  is  over.  So  soon  as  the  statue  of  the 
beautiful  youth  is  finished,  I  will  myself  deck  the  old  jar  with 
ivy,  and  beg  you  to  favor  us,  my  good  old  man;  but  not  be- 
fore. " 

"  Mother  is  right,"  said  PoHitx.  "  The  amphora  is  now  set 
apart  for  me,  and  if  3'ou  allow  it,  father  shall  not  strike  the 
wig  of  black  pitch  from  its  head  until  Arsinoe  is  again  mine.'' 

"  Very  well,  my  boy,"  cried  Doris,  *'  and  then  I  will  crown 
not  only  the  jar,  but  all  of  us  as  well,  with  nothing  but  sweet 
roses." 

On  the  next  day  Pollux  carried  his  unfinished  model  to  the 
workshop  of  his  brother's  master.  The  worthy  man  cleared 
the  place  for  the  sculptor,  for  he  valued  him  highly,  and 
wished  to  make  ujj  to  him,  so  far  as  possible,  for  the  injury 
he  had  suffered  from  the  unworthy  Papias. 

From  sunrise  until  the  evening  approached  Pollux  was  now 
at  his  work.  With  true  devotion,  he  gave  himself  up  to  the 
reawakened  delight  of  creation.  Instead  of  wax,  he  used  clay, 
and  made  a  full-length  figure  of  Antinous,  representing  him 
as  the  young  Bacchus  might  have  appeared  ;;o  the  pirates. 
The  folds  of  a  mantle  fell  lightly  over  his  shoulder  to  the 
ankles,  exposing  the  right  arm  and  the  perfectly  proportioned 
chest.  Vine  leaves  and  grapes  adorned  his  richly  curling, 
locks,  and  a  pine-apple,  rising  upward  like  a  flame,  rested 
upon  his  crown.  The  left  arm  was  raised,  and  the  gracefully- 
curved  fingers  grasped  lightly  a  Thyrsus  staff,  which  rested  on 
the  ground  and  extended  above  the  head  of  the  god.  Partly 
hidden  by  the  folds  of  the  mantle  was  a  lordly  wine-jar. 

For  a  week  Pollux  had  zealously  devoted  all  the  hours  of 
daylight  to  his  work.  Just  before  night  fell  he  had  sli})ped 
away  from  the  shop  to  \\'alk  uii  and  down  before  the  house  of 


THE  EMPEROR.  S?? 

Paulina,  but  he  refrained  from  knocking  on  the  door  and  call- 
ing for  his  dear  Arsinoe.  He  had  learned  from  his  mother 
how  carefully  she  was  guarded  from  him  and  his,  but  this 
strictness  of  the  Christian  was  not  what  hindered  an  attempt 
to  recover  his  dearest  possession — but  a  vow  given  to  himself 
not  to  entice  her  away  from  her  new  and  safe  home  before  he 
was  fully  convinced  of  his  own  power  to  be  a  sculptor,  who 
might  hope  to  accomijlish  great  things,  and  dared  venture  to 
link  the  destiny  of  a  beloved  object  with  his  own. 

As  he,  on  the  morning  of  his  eighth  day  of  work,  was  rest- 
ing a  little,  the  master  of  his  brother  passed  by,  and  stopping 
to  note  his  progress,  exclaimed,  after  looking  at  it  long  and 
carefully:  "  It  is  the  work  of  a  master;  our  time  has  produced 
nothing  to  compare  with  it." 

One  hour  later  Pollux  stood  at  the  door  of  Paulina,  and  let 
the  heavy  knocker  fall  upon  it.  When  the  steward  opened  to 
him  he  asked  for  Paulina,  but  she  was  not  at  home.  Then  he 
inquired  for  Arsinoe,  the  daughter  of  Keraunus,  who  had  been 
received  by  the  widow. 

The  old  servant  shook  his  head,  saying:  "  My  mistress  is  in 
pursuit  of  her.  She  disappeared  last  evening.  A  most  un- 
grateful creature!  She  has  tried  several  times  before  to  run 
away." 

The  sculptor  laughed,  slapped  the  steward  on  the  back,  and 
said: 

"  I  will  find  her  very  soon!"  Then  he  sprung  down  the 
steps  and  hastened  to  the  house  of  his  parents. 

Arsinoe  had  received  much  kindness  in  the  house  of  Paulina, 
but  had  also  gained  some  painful  experiences.  For  months 
she  had  believed  her  lover  to  be  dead.  Pontius  had  told  her 
of  his  disappearance,  and  her  benefactress  always  spoke  of  him 
as  one  dead.  The  poor  child  had  shed  many  tears  for  him, 
and  when  the  longing  to  talk  of  him  with  some  one  who  had 
loved  him  overcame  her,  she  begged  Paulina  to  permit  her  to 
visit  his  mother,  or  allow  Doris  to  come  to  her  house. 

But  the  widow  had  commanded  her  to  give  up  every  thought 
of  the  idol-maker  and  all  belonging  to  him,  and  spoke  with 
contempt  of  the  good  wife  of  the  gate-keeper. 

It  was  just  at  this  time  also  that  Selene  left  the  city;  and 
now  the  longing  to  see  her  old  friends  became  a  passionatp 
craving  in  the  heart  of  Arsinoe. 

One  day  she  slipj^ed  into  the  street,  determined  to  search  for 
Doris;  but  the  door-keeper,  whom  Paulina  had  commanded 
not  to  allow  her   exit  without  her  own  special  permission. 


378  THE  EMPEHOK. 

noticed  her  departure,  and  led  her,  not  onl}'  this  time,  but  on 
several  other  occasions,  back  to  her  foster-mother. 

It  was  not  alone  the  desire  to  speak  of  Pollux  wliich  made 
the  resistance  of  Arsinoe,  in  this  house,  so  hitolerable;  it  rested 
on  several  other  grounds. 

She  felt  herself  a  prisoner,  and  was  really  such;  for  after 
each  attempt  at  running  away  her  freedom  became  more  re- 
stricted. It  is  true  that  she  had  failed  to  acquiesce  in  what 
was  required  of  her,  and  had  indeed  met  her  foster-mother 
with  violent  words,  tears,  and  bitter  complaint;  but  these  im- 
happy  scenes — that  always  ended  with  Paulina's  assurance  that 
she  forgave  her — were  followed  by  long  intervals  in  her  drives, 
and  by  various  petty  mortifications. 

Arsinoe  began  to  hate  her  benefactress  and  everything  con- 
nected with  her.  The  hours  of  prayer  and  instruction  were 
seasons  of  martyrdom;  and  soon  the  doctrines  to  which  she 
might  have  been  won,  became  so  confounded  with  the  being 
who  sought  to  drive  her  into  them,  that  she  defiantly  closed 
her  heart  against  their  influence. 

The  Bishop  Eumenes,  who  had  been  elected  patriarch  of  the 
Alexandrian  Christians,  visited  her  oftener  than  before  while 
Paulina  lived  at  her  country  house. 

Her  foster-mother  really  believed  she  could  do  without  his 
help,  and  that  she  must  accomplish  alone  the  work  of  her  con- 
version; but  the  sympathy  of  this  worthy  old  man  was  extended 
toward  this  poor,  ill-guided  cliild,  and  he  tried  to  comfort  and 
point  out  to  her  the  goal  toward  wliich  Pauhna  was  leading 
her  in  its  real  beauty. 

After  such  discourses,  Arsinoe  was  softened  and  inclined  to 
believe  in  God,  and  to  love  Christ;  but  so  soon  as  her  foster- 
mother  called  her  again  to  the  school-room,  and  repeated  the 
very  same  things — only  in  her  own  manner — the  heart  of  the 
young  girl  closed  again;  and  when  she  was  expected  to  pray — 
though  she  raised  her  hands  as  usual — yet  out  of  defiance, 
offered  her  devotion  only  to  the  Grecian  divinities. 

Sometimes  the  heathen  acquaintances  of  Paulina  came  in 
their  costly  finery  to  pay  visits,  and  their  appearance  reminded 
Arsinoe  of  former  days.  How  poor  she  had  been  then;  and 
yet  she  always  had  a  blue  or  a  red  ribbon  to  braid  with  her 
hair  and  to  bind  her  peplum.  Now  she  was  allowed  to  wear 
only  white  garments;  even  the  smallest  colored  ornament  in 
lier  hair  or  upon  her  dress  was  strictly  forbidden.  Such  vaiu 
trifles,  Pauliiui  would  tell  her,  might  do  very  well  for  the 
heathen,  but  the  Lord  did  not  notice  the  body.  He  looked 
only  into  the  heart.     ^Ui,  the  heart  of  this  i)oor  unfortunate 


THE   EMPEKOE.  379 

child  could  certainly-  be  no  pleasant  spectacle  to  the  Father  in 
heaven,  for  it  was  boiling  with  hatred;,  disgust,  distress,  im- 
patience and  blasphemy  from  morning  until  evening.  This 
young  nature  had  been  formed  for  love  and  cheerfulness,  yet 
both  these  had  left  her  sorrowing.  But  Arsinoe  had  not  ceased 
to  long  for  them.  In  the  early  part  of  November,  on  their 
change  of  residence  to  the  city  house,  she  had  failed  in  another 
attemjDt  to  run  away,  and  Paulina  determined  to  punish  her 
by  not  speaking  to  her  for  a  fortnight,  and  forbidding  any  of 
her  slaves  to  do  so. 

The  social  Greek  child  was  reduced  almost  to  despair  during 
these  days,  so  that  she  meditated  climbing  to  the  roof  and 
throwing  herself  down  from  thence.  But  Arsinoe  was  still 
too  fond  of  life  to  carry  out  so  cruel  a  plan. 

On  the  first  of  December  Paulina  spoke  with  her  once  more, 
forgave  her,  as  usual,  after  a  long,  kind  sjieech,  and  told  her 
how  many  hours  she  had  spent  in  prayer  for  her  improvement 
and  enlightenment.  Paulina  spoke  the  truth,  in  one  sense, 
yet  she  had  never  felt  true  love  for  Arsinoe,  and  had  for  a  long 
time  seen  her  go  and  come  with  aversion;  yet  she  needed  her 
conversion  to  obtain  fulfillment  of  her  heart's  dearest  wish. 
It  was  for  the  sake  of  her  daughter's  eternal  blessedness,  and 
not  for  the  cure  of  the  refractory  girl  in  her  own  household 
that  she  asked  for  her  enlightenment,  and  dared  not  relax  any 
eft'orts  to  soften  the  obdurate  heart  of  her  foster-child. 

On  the  afternoon  preceding  the  morning  when  Pollux  at  last 
knocked  on  the  door  of  her  house  the  sun  was  especially 
bright,  and  Paulina  allowed  Arsinoe  to  ride  with  her. 

They  visited  the  house  of  a  Christian  family  living  on  the 
Lake  of  Mareotis,  and  so  it  happened  that  their  return  was 
delayed  until  almost  evening. 

Arsinoe  had  long  ago  learned  to  see  all  that  went  on  around 
her,  while  pretending  to  look  at  the  ground,  and  as  the  vehicle 
turned  into  their  own  street,  she  noticed  in  the  distance  a  man 
who  resembled  her  long-wept  Pollux.  She  fastened  her  eyes 
upon  him,  and  put  a  violent  constraint  upon  herself  to  avoid 
screaming;  for  it  was  certainly  he  who  walked  slowly  along 
the  street.  She  could  not  be  mistaken,  for  the  torches  of  a 
couple  of  slaves  who  walked  before  a  sedan  fell  full  upon  his 
face  and  figure.  Then  he  was  not  lost;  he  was  alive,  he  was 
seeking  her! 

She  wanted  to  shout  for  joy,  but  controlled  herself  until  the 
carriage  stopped  before  the  house  of  Paulina.  According  to 
custom,  the  porter  hastened  forward  to  assist  his  mistress  in 
descending  from  the  high-built  veda:  and  in  the    moment 


380  THE   EMPEROR. 

when  rauliiiu's  back  was  turned,  Arsinoc  sj^rung  out  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  covered  vehicle,  and  ran  down  the  street 
where  slie  had  seen  her  lover.  Before  Paulina  had  noticed  her 
absence  she  was  lost  among  the  thousands  who,  at  that  time 
of  the  evening,  streamed  from  the  factories  and  workshojjs, 
going  toward  their  homes. 

The  slaves  of  Pauhna,  who  were  instantly  sent  out  to  over- 
take the  fugitive,  returned  this  time  without  success,  and 
Arsinoe  also  failed  to  find  him  she  sought. 

For  an  hour  she  wandered  in  vain,  and  then  began  to  query 
how  she  could  find  the  house  of  his  parents.  Eather  than  re- 
turn to  her  benefactress,  she  would  have  spent  the  niglit  with 
the  homeless  wanderers  in  the  vestibule  of  the  temple,  with 
only  the  hard  marble  pavement  for  a  bed.  At  first  she  re- 
joiced in  the  possession  of  her  liberty,  but  as  no  one  could  tell 
her  where  the  singer  Euijhorion  lived,  and  young  fellows 
pressed  after  her  with  insolent  language,  anxiety  drove  her 
into  a  street  leading  to  the  Bruehiom. 

She  had  not  become  free  from  her  persecutors  when  a  sedan, 
accompanied  by  lictors  and  many  torch-bearers,  passed  by,  in 
which  sat  Julia,  the  good  wife  of  the  prefect.  Arsinoe  knew 
her  at  once,  and  following,  reached  the  door  of  her  house  at 
the  same  time  with  Julia,  who  saw  her  beside  the  path  as  she 
descended,  standing  in  modest  attitude,  but  with  hands  raised 
imploringly. 

Julia  greeted  the  poor  creature,  for  whom  she  had  felt  so 
maternal  an  interest,  beckoned  her  to  herself,  and  hstening 
with  a  kindly  smile  to  her  request  for  shelter  during  the  night, 
led  her  with  satisfaction  to  her  husband. 

Titianus  was  suffering,  but  glad  to  see  again  the  pretty 
daughter  of  the  unfortunate  palace  overseer,  listened  to  the 
story  of  her  flight  with  many  tokens  of  disapproval,  but  with 
kindness,  and  expressed  the  liveliest  satisfaction  of  hearing 
that  Pollux  was  still  alive. 

The  lofty  patrician  bed  in  one  of  the  guest-chambers  of  the 
prefect  had  held  many  of  the  liighcr  rank,  but  never  one  who 
was  refreshed  by  happier  dreams  than  this  poor  young  orphaned 
fugitive  who  only  yesterday  had  cried  herself  to  sleep. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Arsinoe  rose  betimes  on  the  next  morning,  and— embar- 
rassed by  the  elegance  of  her  surroundings — walked  up  and 
down  the  room  thinking  of  Pollux.  Then  she  took  pleasure 
in  the  reflection  of  her  own  image  in  the  great  mirror  above 


THE  ElIPEUOK.  .-J81 

her  dressiug-table — comparing  meanwhile  the  conchy  upon 
which  she  again  extended  herself,  with  those  in  the  house  of 
Paulina. 

She  felt  herself  once  more  a  ]3risoner,  but  this  time  her  place 
of  confinement  was  agreeable,  and  when  she  heard  slaves  pass- 
ing the  room,  she  ran  to  the  door  to  listen,  thinking  it  possi- 
ble Titianus  might  have  sent  for  Pollux,  and  would  permit 
him  to  come  to  her.  At  last  a  slave  woman  brought  in  break- 
fast, and  the  request  from  Julia  that  she  would  amuse  herself 
in  the  garden  with  the  flowers  and  the  aviaries  until  she 
should  come  to  her. 

Early  on  this  morning  Titianus  received  tidings  of  the  death 
of  Antinous,  and  was  much  overcome  by  the  news — less  for 
the  sake  of  the  haj)less  youth  himself  than  for  the  emperor. 

After  giving  orders  to  the  officers  to  make  known  the  sad  in- 
telligence among  the  j^eople,  and  to  announce  some  suitable 
manner  in  which  the  citizens  could  express  their  symj)athy  in 
the  monarch's  bereavement,  he  received  a  visit  from  'the 
patriarch  Eumenes.  x 

This  worthy  old  man  had  been  regarded  as  among  the 
choicest  friends  of  Titianus  and  Julia  since  their  interviews  to 
discuss  the  thanksgiving  service  of  the  Christians  after  the 
emperor's  rescue  from  the  burning  palace.  They  spoke  to- 
gether of  the  unhappy  effect  the  death  of  this  rarely  gifted 
youth  was  likely  to  have  upon  the  emperor  and  his  govern- 
ment of  the  empire. 

"  Whenever  Hadrian,"  said  Titianus,  "  allowed  his  restless 
brain  an  hour  of  recreation  to  recover  from  the  vexations, 
disappointments  and  annoyances,  of  which  his  life  is  always 
overfull  Le  would  go  out  hunting  with  this  vigorous  lad,  or 
found  always  a  pleasant,  good-humored  companion  in  his  own 
apartment.  The  sight  of  the  Bithynian  refreshed  his  artistic 
eye — and  how  well  Antinous  understood  listening — thought- 
fully, modestly,  silently.  Hadrian  loved  him  as  a  son,  and  he 
clung  to  the  emperor  with  more  than  child-like  devotion.  The 
emperor  once  said  to  me :  '  In  the  turmoil  of  busy  life  An- 
tinous stands  before  my  eyes  as  the  incorporation  of  a  beauti- 
ful dream.'  " 

"  The  emperor's  grief  at  losing  him  will  be  indeed  great," 
said  the  jDatriarch. 

"  And  the  loss  will  make  still  more  gloomy  his  brooding  and 
grave  disposition,  add  to  his  capricious  and  restless  wander- 
ings, and  increase  his  distrust  and  irritability.  " 

"And  the  circumstances  attending  his  death,"  added  the 


382  THE  EMPEROR. 

patriarch,  "  will  furnish  new  food  for  his  attachment  to  super- 
stitions." 

"  That^is  to  bo  feared.  We  have  not  happy  days  in  pros- 
pect.    The  late  revolt  in  Judea  will  cost  thousands  of  lives. " 

"  Oh,  that  you  might  have  had  the  guidance  of  affairs  in 
that  province!" 

"  You  know  how  it  is  with  me,  my  worthy  friend.  In  my 
bad  days,  I  am  incapable  of  speaking  or  thinking.  As  the 
asthma  increases,  I  am  as  one  suffocated.  I  have  wilhngly 
devoted  several  decades  of  energy  to  the  State,  and  now  feel 
justified  in  using  the  remnant  of  my  vigor  for  other  things. 
My  M'ife  and  I  intend  to  retire  to  our  property  on  tlie  Lake  of 
Como,  and  there  try  whether  we  may  become  worthy  of  the 
salvation  and  capable  of  grasping  rightly  the  truths  you  have 
taught  us.  You  are  there,  Julia?  In  deciding  to  leave  this 
busy  life,  Ave  have  both  thought  more  than  once  of  the  words 
of  that  wise  man  of  Judea,  wliich  you  lately  repeated  to  us. 
When  the  angel  of  God  drove  the  first  pair  out  of  Paradise,  he 
said:  'Henceforth  you  must  find  Paradise  in  your  own 
hearts. '  We  turn  our  backs  upon  the  i^leasures  of  a  great 
city-" 

"  And  we  do  this  without  regret,"  broke  in  Jidia,  "  because 
we  carry  within  ourselves  the  germ  of  indestructible,  pure, 
and  enduring  happiness. " 

"  Amen,"  said  the  patriarch.  "  When  two  such  as  you  are 
dwell  together,  the  Lord  is  the  third  in  the  bond. " 

"  Permit  your  joupil  Marcianus  to  make  the  journey  with 
us,"  begged  Titianus. 

"  Gla^y,"  answered  Eumenes.  "  Shall  I  send  him  to  you 
directly?" 

"Not  immediately,"  returned  Julia.  "  I  have  this  morn- 
ing an  important  and  also  an  agreeable  business  to  occupy 
my  time.  You  know  Paulina,  the  widow  of  Pudens.  She 
took  a  pretty  young  girl  into  her  house." 

"  And  Arsinoe  has  run  away  from  her." 

"  W^e  are  sheltering  her,"  said  Titianus.  "Her  foster- 
mother  seems  to  have  failed  in  attaching  her  to  herself,  or  in 
exerting  a  good  influence  upon  her  character." 

"  Yes,^'  answered  the  jiatriarch.  '*'  There  was  only  one  key 
that  could  open  the  shrine  of  that  full,  joyous  heart.  That 
was  love;  but  Paulina  has  tried  to  break  it  open  by  force  and 
resolute  coercion.  It  remained  to  the  very  last  closed,  and 
the  lock  has  been  ruined.  But  may  I  ask  how  the  girl  came 
into  this  house?" 


THE  EMPEROR.  383 

"  That  I  will  tell  yon  later.  We  did  not  see  lier  yesterday 
for  the  first  time,"  said  Titianus. 

"  And  I  am  going  to  take  her  to  her  bridegroom/'  cried 
Julia. 

'' Paulina  will  claim  her  of  you/' returned  the  patriarch. 
"  She  is  seeking  her  everywhere;  but  the  girl  will  never  thrive 
under  her  guidance, " 

"  Has  the  widow  formally  adopted  Arsinoe?"  asked  Titianus. 

"'No;  she  intended  to  do  so,  when  her  foster-child — " 

"  Intention  is  nothing  in  law,  and  I  shall  be  able  to  protect 
om-  pretty  guest. ' ' 

"  I  will  fetch  her,"  cried  Julia.  "  The  time  must  have 
seemed  very  long  to  the  poor  child.  Will  you  go  with  me, 
Eumenes?" 

"  Gladly,"  answered  the  old  man.  '^  Arsinoe  and  I  are 
good  friends — a  conciliatory  word  from  me  will  do  her  good, 
and  my  blessing  can  not  harm  even  a  heathen.  Farewell, 
Titianus,  the  deacons  are  Avaiting  for  me." 

When  Julia  returned  to  the  apartment,  accompanied  by  her 
young  charge,  there  were  tears  in  the  girl's  eyes,  for  the  kind 
words  of  the  old  man  went  to  her  heart,  and  she  realized  that 
she  had  received  good  as  well  as  evil  from  Paulina. 

The  matron  found  her  husband  no  longer  alone.  The 
wealthy  Plutarch  with  his  living  supports  was  with  Mm,  and 
offered  to-day,  dressed  in  black  instead  of  gay-colored  gar- 
ments, and  adorned  only  with  white  flowers,  a  very  singular 
appearance. 

The  old  gentleman  was  speaking  to  the  prefect  in  a  very 
animated  manner,  but  on  perceiving  Arsinoe  he  broke  off  his 
speech,  clapped  his  hands,  and  gave  every  demonstration  of 
pleasure  in  meeting  again  the  fair  Eoxana,  in  whose  behalf  he 
had  visited  in  vain  all  the  gold-workers  shops  of  the  city. 

"  But,"  said  he,  with  youthful  eagerness,  "  I  am  quite  tired 
of  keeping  the  ornaments  for  you.  There  are  enough  other 
useless  things  in  my  house.  They  belong  to  you  and  not  to 
me,  and  this  very  day  I  shall  send  them  to  Julia  for  your  use. 
Give  me  your  hand,  dear  girl.  You  are  paler,  but  seem  more 
mature.  Do  you  not  think,  Titianus,  she  would  still  do  for 
Eoxana?  But  your  wife  will  have  to  trouble  herself  again 
about  the  dress.  All  white,  not  a  ribbon  in  the  hair — just 
like  a  Christian!" 

"  I  know  one  who  will  understand  how  to  adorn  these  soft 
tresses,"  answered  Julia.  "  She  is  the  bride  of  the  sculptor 
Pollux." 

"Pollux!"  cried  Plutarch,  in  2freat  excitement.     "Move 


384  THE  EMPEROR. 

me  forward  Antfeus  and  Atlas  I  The  sculptor  Pollux  is  your 
lover  I  A  great,  a  royal  sculptor  I  The  same,  noble  Titianus, 
of  whom  1  was  just  speaking  to  you.'^ 

'*  iJo  you  know  him?"  asked  Julia. 

"  No,  but  I  have  just  come  from  the  workshop  of  Perian- 
der,  the  gem-cutter,  and  have  seen  there  the  model  for  a  statue 
of  Antinous  that  is  unique,  marvelous,  incomparable.  The 
Bithynian  as  Dionysius!  No  Pliidias  or  Lysippus  need  be 
ashamed  of  such  work.  Pollux  was  absent,  but  I  put  my  hand 
on  the  work.  The  young  master  must  execute  it  at  oiice  in 
marble.  Hadrian  Avill  be  enraptured  with  this  image  of  his 
beautiful  and  devoted  favorite.  You — any  judge  of  such 
work — indeed  every  person  must  admire  it!  I  shall  buy  it, 
and  the  only  question  is  whether  I  myself  or  the  city  had  bet- 
ter offer  it  to  the  emperor.  Your  husband  will  decide  that 
question." 

Arsinoe  glowed  with  joy  on  hearing  these  words,  but  she 
stepped  modestly  back  as  an  officer  brought  Titianus  a  docu- 
ment just  received.  The  prefect  looked  it  over  and  said,  turn- 
ing to  his  wife:  '*  Hadrian  exalts  Antinous  to  a  place  among 
the  gods. " 

"  Fortunate  Pollux!^'  cried  Plutarch.  "  He  has  made  the 
first  statue  of  the  new  Olympian  divinity.  I  will  present  it  to 
the  city,  and  it  shall  be  set  up  in  the  Antinous  temple,  whose 
foundation  stone  must  be  laid  before  the  emj^eror  returns. 
Farewell,  noble  people!  Greet  your  bridegroom,  my  child; 
his  work  belongs  to  me.  Pollux  Avill  be  the  first  among  his 
fellow-artists,  and  I  had  the  good  luck  to  discover  this  new 
star.  This  is  now  the  eighth  artist  whose  true  worth  I  have 
discerned  while  he  was  still  unknown!  Your  future  brother- 
in-law  Teuker  will  also  be  a  famous  man.  I  have  given  him 
the  order  to  carve  a  hkeness  of  Antinous  upon  a  gem.  Once 
more  farewell,  I  must  go  to  the  council.  We  shall  discuss 
there  a  temple  for  the  new  divinity.     Forward,  both  of  you!" 

An  hour  after  Plutarch  had  left  the  prefect  the  chariot  of 
Julia  stood  at  the  entrance  of  a  street,  much  too  narrow  to 
admit  a  vehicle  with  a  span  of  horses,  that  ended  in  a  little 

freen  plot,  on  which  stood  the  small  house  of  Euphorion. 
ulia's  outrunners  found  very  readily  the  dwelling  of  the  par- 
ents of  Pollux,  led  Julia  and  Arsinoe  to  the  open  sj^ace,  and 
pointed  out  the  door  on  which  they  should  knock. 

"  How  flushed  you  are,  my  girl!"  exclaimed  Juiia.  "  I  do 
not  want  to  intrude  upon  your  first  meeting,  but  would  like  to 
deliver  you  with  my  own  hand  to  your  future  mother.  Go 
into  the  house  yonder,  Aretus,  and  ask  Doris  to  come  out  to 


THE  EMPEROE.  385 

ns.     Say  only  that  some  one  wants  to  sjDeak  with  her,  and  do 
not  mention  my  name." 

Arsinoe's  heart  beat  ^o  violently  that  she  could  not  utter  a 
word  of  her  gratitude. 

'  ■  Step  behind  this  j^alm-tree,"  begged  Julia;  Arsinoe 
obeyed,  but  it  seemed  that  some  other  will  and  not  her  own 
led  her  into  the  hiding-place.  She  heard  also  notliing  of  the 
first  words  exchanged  between  the  Roman  lady  and  Doris. 
She  only  saw  the  dear  old  face  of  the  mother  of  her  Pollux — 
and  in  spite  of  the  reddened  eyes  and  the  wrinkles  sorrow  had 
furrowed  she  could  not  be  satisfied  with  gazing  upon  it.  It 
reminded  her  of  childhood's  happy  days,  and  she  longed  to 
rush  forward  and  throw  herself  upon  the  neck  of  the  good, 
kind  woman.     Now  she  heard  Julia  say: 

"And  I  will  bring  her  to  you — she  is  just  as  lovely,  and 
maidenly,  and  sweet  as  when  we  saw  her  for  the  first  time  in 
the  theater." 

"  Where  is  she?''  asked  Doris,  in  a  trembling  voice.  Julia 
pointed  toward  the  palm-tree,  and  would  have  called,  but  this 
time  her  young  charge  could  not  control  the  longing  to  fall 
upon  the  neck  of  some  beloved  object,  for  Pollux  had  come 
out  of  the  door  to  see  Avho  had  called  his  mother;  and  to  see 
him,  and  with  one  loud  cry  of  joy  to  fall  upon  his  breast,  was 
for  Arsinoe  one  and  the  same  thing. 

Julia  looked  at  them  with  moistened  eyes,  and  when  with 
friendly  words  to  both  old  and  young  she  took  leave  of  the 
joyfully  reunited  group,  she  said:  "I  want  to  provide  your 
outfit,  my  dear  girl,  and  this  time  I  think  you  will  use  it,  not 
merely  for  one  fleeting  hour,  but  for  a  long  and  haj^py  life." 

In  the  evening  of  this  day  hearty  song  echoed  from  the  little 
house  of  Euphorion.  Doris  and  her  husband,  Pollux  and 
Arsinoe,  Diotima  and  Teuker,  decked  with  garlands,  reclined 
around  the  rose-wreathed  amphora,  and  drank  to  2:)leasure,  to 
joy,  to  art,  and  to  love,  and  to  all  the  good  gifts  of  the  pres- 
ent. The  abundant  hair  of  the  happy  bride  was  once  more 
plaited  with  i)retty  blue  ribbons. 

Three  weeks  later  Hadrian  arrived  in  Alexandria.  He  did 
not  show  himself  at  any  of  the  festivals  celebrated  in  honor  of 
the  new  god  Antinous,  and  smiled  incredulously  when  told  that 
a  new  star  had  appeared  in  the  heavens,  which  an  oracle  had 
declared  to  be  the  soul  of  his  darling. 

When  Plutarch  conducted  him  and  his  retinue  to  the  Bac- 
chus Antinous,  which  Pollux  had  finished  in  the  clay,  Hadrian 
was  deeply  moved,  and  AS'ished  to  know  the  artist  who  had 
wrought  such  a  marvelous  work.     Not  one  of  the  company 

13 


386  THE   EMPEROR. 

had  the  courage  to  mention  the  name  of  Polhix  in  his  pres- 
ence; but  Pontius  ventured  to  come  forward  in  behalf  of  his 
young  friend.  He  related  to  Hadrian  the  unfortunate  sculp- 
tor's histor}^  and  asked  the  emperor  to  forgive  him. 

Hadrian  nodded  an  assent,  and  said:  "  For  the  salie  of  the 
dead  he  shall  be  forgiven." 

When  Pollux  was  brought  to  him,  the  monarch  extended  his 
hand,  and  jDressing  that  of  Pollux  within  his  own,  he  said: 

"  The  Heavenly  Powers  have  deprived  me  of  his  love  and 
loyalty,  but  your  art  has  preserved  for  me,  and  for  the  world, 
his  beauty. " 

Every  city  in  the  emj^ire  was  eager  to  build  temples  and  to 
erect  statues  to  the  new  god ;  and  Pollux,  Arsinoe's  hajipy  hus- 
band, received  orders  for  statues  and  busts  in  a  hundred  differ- 
ent places.  But  he  declined  the  greater  part  of  them,  and 
gave  out  no  work  as  his  own  which  he  had  not  made  with  his 
own  hand  and  formed  after  some  original  conception.  The 
copying  of  his  works  he  left  to  the  other  artists. 

His  master,  Papias,  returned  to  Alexandria,  but  Avas  re- 
ceived so  coldly  and  contemptuously  by  his  fellow-artists  that 
in  an  unhappy  moment  he  put  an  end  to  his  own  life. 

Teuker  became  the  most  famous  engraver  of  gems  of  his 
time. 

Hannah  left  the  city  of  Besa  soon  after  the  martyrdom  of 
Selene.  The  oflBce  of  chief  deaconess  in  Alexandria  was  given 
to  her,  and  through  this  she  blessed  others  down  to  a  good  old 
age. 

The  deformed  Maria  remained  in  the  little  Nile  city,  which 
Hadrian  had  enlarged  into  the  brilliant  Antinoe.  There  were 
there  two  graves  from  which  she  could  not  tear  herself  away. 

Four  years  after  the  marriage  of  Arsinoc,  Hadrian  sum- 
moned the  sculj)tor,  Pollux,  to  Pome,  where  he  Avas  to  erect  a 
statue  of  the  emperor  upon  a  chariot  drawn  by  four  horses. 
This  work  was  intended  to  crown  the  mausoleum  constructed 
by  Pontius;  and  Pollux  accomplished  his  task  in  such  a  mar- 
velous manner  that  upon  its  completion  the  emperor  said, 
laughingly,  to  him: 

"  Now  you  have  earned  the  right  to  break  a  lath  over  the 
work  of  other  masters. "" 

The  son  of  Euphorion,  with  his  much-admired  and  faithful 
wife  Arsinoe,  saw  their  children  growing  up  to  be  virtaous 
citizens  on  the  banks  of  the  Tiber.  They  remained  heathen, 
but  the  Christian  love  which  Eumenes  had  shown  the  foster- 
child  of  Paulina  could  never  be  forgotten,  and  she  kept  always 
»  friendly  sanctuary  for  it  in  her  heart  and  her  home, 


THE  EMPEROK.  387 

Doris  fell  asleep  a  few  months  before  tlie  departure  of  the 
youthful  pair  from  Alexandria,  and  her  husband  soon  followed 
hej-.  The  longing  for  his  cheerful  companion  was  the  disease 
of  which  he  died. 

Pontius  was  also  upon  the  Tiber,  a  faithful  friend  of  the 
sculptor. 

Balbilla  and  her  husband  gave  to  their  demoralized  country- 
men the  example  of  a  worthy  marriage  in  the  old  Eoman 
sense. 

The  bust  of  the  poetess  was  finished  in  Alexandria,  and 
found,  with  all  its  curls  and  ringlets,  favor  in  the  eyes  of  Bal- 
billa. 

Verus  was  permitted  to  bear  the  title  of  Ca?sar  during  the 
life-time  of  Hadrian,  but  he  died,  after  a  lingering  disease, 
long  before  him.  Lucilla  nursed  her  husband  with  tender  un- 
selfishness, and  realized  with  deep  jjain  the  longed-for  posses- 
sion of  his  entire  devotion.  It  was  their  son  who  in  later 
years  wore  the  j^urple. 

The  predictions  of  the  prefect  were  fulfilled.  The  faults  of 
the  emperor  grew  with  his  years,  the  petty  side  of  his  nature 
becoming  more  rudely  prominent. 

Titianus  and  Julia  led  a  quiet  life  on  the  Larius  Sea,  far 
from  the  busy  world;  and  before  their  death,  both  received 
Christian  baptism.  They  never  regretted  the  pleasure-seek- 
ing and  restless  city,  with  its  glittering  shows — for  the  real 
beauty  of  living  had  taken  root  hi  their  hearts. 

It  was  Mastor  who  brought  to  Titianus  the  news  of  the  em- 
23eror's  death.  While  yet  alive,  Hadrian  had  given  him  his 
own  freedom,  and  he  bequeathed  to  him  a  handsome  legacy. 
The  prefect  received  him  as  a  tenant,  and  continued  to  ex- 
change friendly  relations  with  this  Christian  neighbor  and  his 
pretty  daughter,  who  grew  up  among  the  fellow-believers  of 
her  father. 

When  Titianus  carried  to  his  wife  the  sad  tidings,  he  said, 
earnestly : 

"  A  great  prince  has  passed  av/ay.  The  petty  traits  which 
disfigured  the  man  Hadrian  will  be  forgotten  by  those  who 
come  after  him,  for  Hadrian,  the  monarch,  was  one  of  those 
Avhom  Destiny  has  placed  where  they  belong,  and  who,  true  to 
their  duty,  struggle  restlessly  to  the  very  end.  With  wise 
moderation  he  had  learned  to  bridle  his  own  ambition  and 
defy  the  fault-finding  and  criticism  of  all  the  Eomans.  To 
renounce  possession  of  the  provinces,  whose  maintenance  would 
have  exhausted  the  resources  of  the  State,  was  certainly  the 
hardest,  though  perhaps  the  wisest,  resolution  of  his  life.     He 


388  THE  EMPEHOR. 

had  wandered  throiiffli  the  new  emjiire,  the  limits  of  which  he 
had  himself  fixed,  from  one  eiid  to  the  other,  shrinking  from 
neither  cold  nor  heat,  and  sought  to  be  as  well  acquainted  with 
every  part  as  though  the  empire  were  only  a  small  2)ersonal 
inheVitance.  His  duty  as  a  monarch  compelled  him  to  make 
many  journeys,  and  his  love  for  roaming  lightened  this  task. 
He  was  actuated  by  a  passion  for  learning  and  understanding 
all.  Even  the  unattainable  coidd  not  bound  his  desire  for 
knowledge;  and  always  strivmg  to  sec  further  and  to  dig  deej^er 
than  is  allowed  to  human  intellect,  he  sacrificed  a  large  share 
of  his  mighty  vigor  in  seeking  to  tear  down  the  curtains  which 
hide  the  future.  No  one  ever  attemjDted  so  many  accessory 
occupations  as  he,  and  yet  no  emperor  has  kept  the  chief  ob- 
ject of  such  a  life — the  strengthening  of  the  State,  and  pre- 
servmg  and  increasing  the  prosperity  of  its  citizens — more  un- 
swervingly in  the  eye  than  he  has  done. " 


THE  END. 


SERAPIS. 


SERAPIS 


CHAPTER    1. 

The  busy  tumult  ot  city  life  had  for  some  hours  been  hushed  ia 
Alexandria;  on  high,  moon  and  stars  sped  noiselessly  on  their  way, 
uud  already  dreams  had  visited  many  u  couch. 

It  was  a  fine,  fresh,  truly  balmy  nighl,  but  although  quiet  reinged 
on  the  streets  and  limes,  tbre  was  lacking,  at  this  unquiet  time,  "tho 
genuine  tranquillity  that  is  really  sonthini:  to  the  spirit. 

Fur  a  full  week  past,  a  certain  oppiessive,  (everish  character  had 
attached  itself  to  the  repose  oi  the  night. 

The  houses  and  shutters  were  closed,  as  if  not  only  to  guard 
against  disturbance  to  slumber,  but  atiacks  upon  life  and  property. 

From  those  slumbering  houses  came,  instead  ot  cheerful,  merry 
voices,  the  sound  ot  the  soldier's  heavy  foot-tall,  and  the  rattling  of 
his  armor. 

If  occasionally  some  Roman  challenge,  or  the  agitated  voices  of 
sleepless  monks,  made  themselves  heard,  a  Bhulter  opened  here,  or 
a  door  there,  and  the  scared  face  of  a  man  peered  timidly  into  the 
street. 

Many  a  late-comer  piessed  into  the  deep  embrasure  of  some  gate,, 
upon  the  approach  ot  the  watchman,  or  availed  himself  of  the 
shallow  cast  by  some  overhanging  wall. 

Like  the  breast  of  him  who  scales  the  Alps,  a  mysterious  some- 
thing checked  oppressively  the  i)ulsations  ot  the  stirring  city. 

On  this  night  of  the  year  891  after  the  biith  ot  our  Saviour,  an 
eldeily  man  was  seen  gliding  along  close  by  the  houses  in  a  narrow 
street  that  took  its  course  from  the  harbor  ITibotas. 

He  was  plainly  but  respectably  dressed,  and,  with  liead  beni  over, 
looked  sometimes  straight  ahead,  and  Eomttimes  sideways.  If  a 
sentry  approached,  he  drew  back  into  the  shadow. 

Without  being  a  thief,  he  had  his  own  reasons  for  getting  out  of 
the  soldier's  way,  tor  this  very  day  both  natives  and  foreigners 
had  been  strictly  forbidden  to  appear  upon  the  streets  after  the  clos- 
ing ot  the  port. 

He  stopped  before  a  large  house,  the  long,  windowless  wall  of 
which  stretched  along  inhospitably  between  two  cross  streets. 
I'ausing  before  its  gieat  middle  gate,  he  read  by  the  dim  light  of  a 
lantern  this  inscription: 

"  Ti>  the  Martyr.  Opened  l)y  his  widow,  Maria,  to  all  those  who 
uccd  ii  shelter,     '  He  who  gives  to  the  poor,  lends  to  the  Lord, '  " 


i.  SEllAl'lS. 

"  At  wlijxt  per  cent?"  rnultered  the. old  man;  and  a  derisive  smile 
crossed  bis  beardless  lipf?. 

Tliestioke  of  the  knoekcr  echoed  sharply  Ihronuli  the  quiet  street, 
tind  after  a  lew  i)riet  qiiestious  troiii  willuii,  and  ju&t  as  stuleulious 
answcis  from  svithoiit,  a  little  door  iu.«iilc  the  .u;reat  gate  operied. 

The  old  man  made  a  movement  as  though  he  would  p.nceed 
straightway  across  the  outer  court,  but  a  human  being  crept  up  to 
him  on  all  fours  just  like  an  animal,  seized  firm  hold  of  his  ankle, 
and  calleil  out  in  a  grufit  voice: 

"  Is'ot  till  the  gate  is  ^iut.  Pay  your  money!  It  is  for  the  poor, 
you  know  I" 

The  old  man  threw  the  doorkeeper  a  copper  coin.  Ife  quickly 
pocketed  it,  and  then,  calchinirin  his  hand  the  end  of  the  rope  wilii 
•which  he  was  tied,  like  a  chained  dog,  to  lhe|X)st,  he  addressed  this 
question  to  the  other:  "  ]No  wet  thing  for  a  Christian?" 

"It  has  not  rained  for  a  longtime,"  ran  the  answer,  and  un- 
hindered now,  the  night-arrival  opened  a  second  door,  and  entered 
an  immensely  large  court,  above  which  arched  the  blue  canopy  of 
the  skies. 

A  few  torches  on  the  pillars  and  some  little  fires  on  the  ground, 
here  blendi'd  their  pale  and  flickering  litcht  with  tiie  pure  si)lendor 
of  the  stars.  The  almosphcre  of  the  whole  place  was  heavy  wjlli 
vapor,  made  up  of  smoke,  mingled  with  the  odors  of  freshly  cooked 
viands. 

Even  out  upon  the  street  the  old  man  had  heard  a  confused  buz- 
zing, roaring,  and  surging  of  sound;  now  there  burst  upon  him  a 
loud  chishing  of  discordant  tones.  This  emanated  from  some  hun- 
dreds »f  men,  with  which  the  sirawcovered  court  was  crowded; 
here  in  groujis,  there  singly,  were  they  sleeping,  even  snoring,  while 
others  walked  about,  chatted  or  sung. 

The  inn  was  indeed  full,  and  more  than  half  of  its  modest  guests 
c.-nsistcd  of  monks,  who  had  yesterday  and  the  day  before  streamed 
into  the  city  by  troops,  from  their  various  hermitages  in  the  desert, 
and  in  yet  greater  numbers  from  the  monasteries  in  the  city.  Some 
of  I  hem  had  stuck  their  heads  together  and  were  e;iruestly  whisper- 
ing to  one  another,  Others  disputed  loudly,  and  with  the  psalm- 
Hinging  of  a  large  group  in  the  northerly  coiner  of  the  court  mingled 
quci-rly  the  "three,"  "four,"  "seven  '  of  the  gand)kT,  and  the 
voice  of  the  vender,  who  offered  to  sell  cheap  bread,  meat,  and 
onions.  To  that  wall  of  the  court  which  lay  opposite  the  entrance, 
was  joined  an  open  passage  lined  with  doors  on  either  hand.  These 
led  into  tlie  chambers  destined  for  houseless  fauuliea  with  women 
and  children. 

Into  sui'h  a  chamber  the  old  man  stepped,  and  was  gladly  wel- 
comed by  a  young  man,  who  was  carving  a  bit  of  reed  for  the 
mouth  piece  of  a  double  llute,  and  by  a  stalely  matron. 

The  name  of  the  newly-arrived  was  Knrnis,  and  he  was  the  hi-ad 
of  a  family  of  traveling  minstrels,  who  had  just  reached  Alexandria 
yesterday  fr()n\  Rome.  Things  went  badly  with  him,  foi.  although 
it  is  true  that  the  lives  ot  liimseU  and  family  had  been  rescued  from 
j)irates,  escaping  as  they  had  done,  in  a  boat,  to  the  African  coast, 
the  bag  had  been  lost  in  which  he  carried  the  whole  remains  ol  his 
torluue.     The  young  ship-owner,  to  whom   he   hacf  been  indebted 


SERAPIS.  5 

for  bis  deliverance,  had  procured  him  fidmission  lo  the  inn  of  his 
nintlier,  the  widow  Maria;  l)ut  lie  hud  not  found  this  at  all  to  his 
iniud,  and  so,  had  set  out  as  early  as  noonday  to  seek  other  quar- 
ters. 

"All  in  vain,"  cried  he,  as  he  wiped  the  sweat  from  his  brow. 
"  I've  chased  after  Medius  through  half  the  town.  At  last  1  came 
up  with  him  at  the  house  of  Posidonius,  the  wizard,  for  whom  he 
p!ays  waitman.  Behind  the  curtain  there  was  to  be  singing.  Cioss- 
yrained  Galimatias,  but  at  llie  same  time  old  sages  with  flute  ac- 
companiment in  the  style  of  Olympus — not  so  bad  either.  Then 
spirits  were  made  to  appear.  A  rare  show,  1  can  tell  you!  And 
there  was  Medius  in  the  thick  of  everything.  1  led  the  chorus  and 
sung  something  with  them.  And  all  I  got  by  it,  was  a  little  stingy 
bit  of  silver— pah!  But  quarters,  free  quarters  here,  are  allowed  to 
nothing  but  owls.     So  much  for  law,  that  cursed  law!" 

While  the  older  man  was  talking,  the  younger  had  exclianged  a 
cheorful  and  knowing  look  with  the  matron.  Now  he  interrupteil 
him  and  said  in  a  (one  of  gladness: 

"  Make  yourself  easy,  father,  we  know  of  something  good  in 
store  lor  us." 

"  \'ou?"  asked  the  old  man,  shrugging  his  shoulders  incredu- 
lously, while  his  wife  placed  before  him  a  broiled  chicken  on  a 
stool  that  was  meant  to  serve  as  a  table. 

"  Yes,  we,  father,  we,"  continued  the  son,  laying  down  his  knife. 
"  You  know  we  made  a  vow  to  offer  a  sacrihce  to  Dionysius,  when 
we  were  delivered  out  of  Die  hands  of  ILose  robbers;  for  he,  too, 
was  once  captured  by  piiales--and  so  we  set  out  to  find  his  temple. 
Mother  knew  the  way,  but  when  we,— Dada,  1  mean,  and  1 — " 

"  Wh — what?"  interposed  Karnis,  who  had  just  now  caught 
sight  of  the  appetizing  dish  before  him.  "  A  whole  ciiicken,  a 
chicken  broiled  in  butter  too,  in  a  time  of  such  trouble  as  this?" 

Ihese  last  words  were  uttered  iu  angry  and  reproacnful  tones, 
but  the  matron  laid  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder  and  said,  soothingly: 
"  We'll  soon  bring  matters  straight  again.  Not  a  sesterce  is  to  be 
earned  by  tormenting  one's  self.  Let  us  enjoy  the  present,  and  leave 
the  gods  to  care  for  the  morrow  1" 

"  Well,"  said  Karnis,  in  altered  tones,  "  if  it  must  be  that  cocks 
oi-  hens  fly  at  a  body's  throat  instead  of  a  dried-up  little  bird  there — 
But  you  are  right,  Herse,  now  as  always.  Only— only— here  am  I 
feasted  like  u  senator  and  you— you.  1  bet  j^ou  have  drunk  noth- 
ing but  milk  and  eaten  with  it  plain  bread  and  radishes.  Is  that 
lightV  hy  this  means  the  chicken  turns  pheasant,  1  do  believe, 
and  j'ou,  old  woman,  take  this  leg.  Are  the  girls  asleep  already? 
Wny,  here  is  wine,  too.  Hold  out  your  glass,  my  son!  Pour  me 
out  10  the  gods!     A  libation  to  Dionysius!" 

Both  poured  a  small  libation  upon  the  floor  and  drank.  Then  the 
old  man  thrust  his  knife  into  the  breast  of  the  fowl  and  ate  with 
full  enjoyment,  while  Orpheus— interrupted  as  he  Mas  by  many  a 
question— continued  his  narration. 

"  Tile  temple  of  Dionysius  was  not  to  be  found,  for  Bishop 
Theopliilus  had  had  it  pulled  down.  To  what  divinity  now  should 
tliey  offer  ilu?  wealth  and  tlie  cakes?  Being  in  Egypt  of  course  to 
the  motherly  Isis.     Her  sanctuary  lay  on  Lake  Mcerio,  and  mother 


6  SERAPIS. 

had  soon  found  it  again.  There  slie  happened  to  get  into  conversa- 
lion  with  a  priestess,  and  no  sooner  had  she  let  fall  that  liiey — for 
llerse  had  been  cautious  enough  in  nuikinj;  this  conimuuic.alion — 
tiiat  they  belonged  to  a  family  of  singers  who  had  come  to  make 
their  living  in  Alexandria,  than  the  priestess  brought  up  to  them  a 
young  lady,  closely  vpiled." 

"  This  iady,"  continued  Orpheus,  the  son  of  Karnis,  whose  pait 
It  was  sometimes  to  sing  tenor,  sometimes  to  play  the  llute,  and  oc- 
casionally to  harp  on  the  lyre,  "  then  invited  us  to  come  to  her 
house  later,  and  confer  with  her  about  various  Ihiugs.  Whe  drove 
oil  in  an  elegant  carriage,  and  of  coarse  we  were  failhtul  to  our 
appointment.  Acnes  was  with  us  too.  A  magnificent  house  it 
was!  Nothing  handsomer  have  we  seen  either  at  Rome  or  Anlioch. 
We  were  welcomed  in  friendly  fashion  too,  and  introduced  besides 
to  a  right  old  lady,  and  then  a  tall,  grave  gentleman,  a  priest,  1 
think,  a  philosopher,  or  something  of  the  sort." 

"  No  Christian  trap,  you  are  sure?"  asked  Karnis  susi^iciously. 
"  You  do  not  know  this  town,  and  since  that  law— '•' 

"  Rest  easy,  father!  There  were  statues  of  tlie  gods  in  the  halls 
antl  corridors,  and  in  (he  apartment,  where  the  fairGorgo,  daughter 
ol  the  rich  merchant  Porphyrins,  received  us — we  know  now  who 
the  father  of  the  young  cirl  is,  and  many  another  thing  besides — the 
sacrificial  stone  beneath  the  statue  of  Isis  was  quite  freshly  anointed. 
The  philosopher  asked  us  too,  whether  we  knew  that  Theodosius 
had  published  a  new  law,  which  forbids  a  maiden  to  appear  in 
public,  either  for  singing  or  playing  on  the  flute." 

"  And  did  Agues  hear  that?"  asked  the  old  man  with  subdued 
voice,  pointing  to  the  curtain, 

"  She  was  with  Dada  in  the  garden,  upon  which  the  apartment 
opened,  but  mother  confessed  that  the  girl  was  a  Christian,  although 
of  good  stock,  and  berause  she  is  in  our  service,  pledged  to  sing 
with  us.  Then  the  philosopher  exclaimed  to  the  fair  Gorgo:  '  F«ir- 
tunate!'  Then  the  pair  whispered  together,  the  girls  were  sum- 
moned, and  had  to  show  oH  what  they  "could  do." 

"  And  how  did  it  turn  out?"  queried  the  old  man,  and  his  eye 
began  to  grow  animated. 

"  Dada  trolled  like  a  lark,  and  Agnes!— well,  how  shall  1  begin 
to  tell  you?  lou  can  easily  imagine,  though  Ifer  voice  sounded 
lovely,  but  just  the  same  as  it  always  does.  One  divines  its  quality 
and  compass  if  ever  allowed  to  come  out  fully.  What  has  she  to 
complain  oi  in  our  service?  Yet  every  souiui  that  passes  her  lips 
acquires  that  tinge  ol  melancholy,  against  which  you  even  have  been 
able  to  do  nothing  at  all.  As  for  the  rest  she  pleased  better  than 
Dada.  for  1  noted'well  tliat  Gorgo  and  the  ])hilosopher  had  ej-es  for 
her  only,  and  that  when  they  exchanged  glances  and  low  words  of 
approval,  they  evidenily  referred  to  Agnes.  After  llie  second  song 
the  young  lady  came  forward,  praised  the  girls,  and  asked  it  we 
would  trust  ourselves  to  learn  a  iiew  song.  1  said  my  fatlier  is  a 
ereat  master,  who  understands  the  most  difficult  thing  at  fust  hear- 
ing." 

"  The  mo9t  dilHcult  thing,  did  you  say?  Eh?  Hum!  Depend 
upon  tliat!"  smirked  the  old  man.    "  Did  she  show  you  tiie  notes?" 

"  No,  it  was  something  akin  to  Jiinus,  and  slie  sung  it  tor  us." 


SEEAPIS.  7 

"  So  Ibc  dauglitei  ot  the  lich  Porphyrias  treated  you  to  a  song? 
You?"  laughecTKarnis.  "Zounds!  How  the  world  turns  round. 
Since  female  singers  are  no  longer  to  appear  before  refined 
audiences,  Art  will  reveal  herself  in  a  reversed  position.  She  will 
not  be  put  down.  In  future  the  hearer  will  be  paid  for  keeping  still, 
and  the  singer  purchase  the  riglit  of  putting  him  to  the  torture.  Our 
earn,  our  poor  ears  will  be  the  victims!" 

Orpheus  shook  his  head,  smiling  at  this  outburst  of  sentiment, 
again  threw  down  his  knife,  and  eagerly  interposed:  "Only  hear 
her,  and  just  so  certainly  as  that  I  am  youi  son,  you  will  give  away 
your  last  copper  to  hear  her  again!" 

"  That  might  be!"  growled  the  old  man.  "  Yes,  there  are  mas- 
ters here  too.     Did  you  say  that  she  sung  Linus?" 

"  Something  very  like.     It  was  a  dirge  of  striking  power, 

" '  Come  back,  beloved,  oh  come  1 
To  thy  deserted  home  l' 

was  a  refrain  continually  recurring.  And  there  was  one  place 
where  these  words  came  in : 

"  '  Oh,  that  a  month  had  every  tear, 
To  joiu  with  me  and  call  thee  nearP 

Ah !  how  she  wailed  forth  that  lament,  father.  1  think  that  in  all 
my  li'e  1  never  heard  anything  lilie  it.  Just  ask  mother!  Even 
Dada's  eyf^s  did  not  keen  dry." 

"  Yes,  it  was  glorious,"  assented  the  matron.  "  I  kept  wishing 
that  you  could  only  have  been  there!" 

Karnis  rose  to  his  feet,  and  as  he  restlessly  paced  np  and  down 
the  room,  moving  his  arms  vehemently,  he  kept  talking  to  himself: 
"  So  then,  so.  A  friend  of  the  muses  she  is.  The  large  lute  was 
saved.  Good,  good.  My  chlamys,  hum,  this  dirty  hole  here!  If 
the  girls  were  not  asleep— but  to-morrow  bright  and  early  Agnes  is 
to—    Is  she  tall?    Is  she  beautiful?" 

Dame  Herse  had  contentedly  followed  with  her  eyes  her  easily 
excited  husband,  and  now  joined  in  his  talk.  "  No  "Venus,  no  muse, 
assuredly  not!  She  is  hardly  ot  medium  height,  prettily  formed  and 
yet  not  diminutive.  Black  eyes,  long  eyelashes,  brows  that  meet  in 
the  middle.     1  could  hardly  call  her  beautiful,  as  Oipheus  does." 

"Well,  well,  mother,"  cried  he,  "1  know  that  beautiful  is  a 
strong  word  which  father  has  taught  me  to  use  charily;  but  she — 
what  could  be  called  beautiful,  it  not  she,  when  she  opened  those 
large,  black  eyes  of  hers  and  threw  back  her  head  as  she  poured  forth 
that  lament?  Each  tone  came  from  the  very  depths  of  her  heart,  to 
scale  as  it  were  the  heights  of  heaven.  Y'es,  if  Agnes  could  learn  that 
from  her !  '  Throw  your  whole  soul  into  what  you  sing. '  A  thousand 
times  have  1  heard  you  repeat  that  direction,  tliat  and  only  tnat.  She, 
Gorgo,  does  that  very  thmg.  And  how  she  stood  there!  Bent  like 
a  bow !  Each  note  was  a  telling  arrow;  each  one  struck  right  at  the 
very  heart,  and  each  was  pure,  spotlessly  pure." 

"Hush,  hush!"  exclaimed  the  old  man,  stopping  his  ears.  "1 
can  not  close  my  eyes,  until  it  is  light— and  then!  Take  that  silver 
there,  Orpheus;  all,  all,  I  have  no  'more.  Go  early  to  market,  buy 
laurel,  ivy,  violets  and  roses;  but  no  lotus  llowers  of  which  the  mar- 


»  SETIAPIS. 

ket  hore  is  lull.  Pretentious  tliing-s  without  perfume;  1  ran  not 
bear  liiein.     We  go  crowned  into  llie  temple  of  tlie  muses." 

"  JS'olliiug  but  Ituy,  buy!"  laughed  llerse,  showius  lier  husband 
some  pieces  ot  shiaiug  gold.  "  This  we  got  to-day,  ami  if  all  goes 
as  it  shoidd  do—"  here  she  paused,  pointing  to  "the  curtain/and 
continued  witli  lowered  voice:  "  Everything  depends  upon  Agues 
not  failing  us." 

"  How  so?  Wherefore?  She  is  a  good  airl  and  I'll — "  said 
Kainis,  walking  toward  the  back  pait  of  the  room. 

"No,  no,"  warned  Ilerse,  holding  him  back.  "  She  does  not 
know  yet  the  point  in  question.  She  is  to  sing  with  tnat  noble 
young  lady — " 

"  Well?" 

"  She  is  to  sing  with  her  in  the  sanctuary  of  Isis." 

Karnis  turned  pale,  aul  utterly  disconcerted,  as  though  awakened 
from  a  brilliant  dream,  to  be  thrust  back  into  a  wretched  reality ; 
he  inquired  anxiously:  "  In  the  temple  of  Isis?  Agnes?  Before 
everybody?     And  she  knows  nothing  about  it?" 

"  No,  father." 

"  No?  Then  indeed,  then —  The  Christian  Agnes  in  the  temple 
ot  Isis,  and  that  here — here  where  Theophiliis,  the  l)ishop,  tears 
down  sanctuaries,  and  the  monks  go  further  than  their  master. 
Children,  children,  how  round  and  many-tinted  are  anap-bubbles, 
but  how  soon  they  burst!  Do  you  know  what  you  have  bcl'oie 
you?  If  the  black  flies  get  scent  ot  it  and  it  comes  to  iiuht,  then, 
by  the  great  Apollo,  then  had  it  been  better  tor  us  to  have  fa'lca 
into  the  clulclies  of  those  pirates.  And  yet,  and  j'et!  If  1  only 
knew  liow  llie  girl — " 

"  She  wept  at  the  lady's  singing,"  interposed  Ilerse,  eagerly, 
"  and  as  little  prone  to  speak  as  she  is,  this  time  she  said,  on  our 
wa}^  home,  '  Oh!  to  be  able  to  sing  like  that  liappy  maiden!"  " 

Again  Karnis  straightened  himself  up,  and  exclaimed,  with  re- 
newed confidence:  "  There  spoke  my  Agnes.  Yes,  yes,  she  too 
loves  the  divine  art!  she  sings,  she  will  sins;;  we'll  risk  it!  Evrn 
tiiouoh  it  imperils  my  lite,  yours,  nay,  that  of  us  all.  Ilerse  and 
Orpheus,  what  is  there  for  us  to  lose?  Out  gods,  too,  would  have 
their  martyrs!  Poor  life,  it  is  without  a  charm.  Our  art  Irom  (ir-t 
to  last  has  had  all  that  1  possessed.  1  hoast  not  of  having  deilieatrd 
it  to  her;  and  now  should  1  once  more  inherit  fullness  of  land  ami 
vveulth,  1  would  become  a  begsiar  again  to  do  her  a  pleasure.  We 
have  always  held  her  sacred;  but  wlio  could  help  despaiiiug,  when 
he  sees  how  th^y  persecute  heaven's  majestic  dauchter?  !She  is  no 
longer  endured  but  in  darkness,  and  the  princess  ot  gods  and  men 
must  now  hide  herself  and  shun  thp  lisjlit,  like  a  salamander,  a 
mole,  or  an  owl.  If  we  must  die,  let  it  be  with  and  for  her!  Once 
more  let  pure,  genuine  music  refresh  this  old  htart.  and  then  if  — 
children,  children!  We  belong  not  to  this  pale,  dull  world.  So 
long  as  the  arts  lived  it  was  spring  tipon  earih!  Now  ilie\-  are  sen- 
tenced to  death,  and  winter  is  here.  The  leaves  fall  front  the  trees, 
and  yet  we  twittering  birds  need  their  foliage,  in  whicii  lo  sing. 
Ilow  often  ah-eady  has  de.atii  laid  liis  hand  tq)on  our  shouldeis? 
Every  breath  that  we  draw  is  only  a  gift  of  grace,  the  over  and 
above  that  ti-c  weaver  throws  in  lor  good  measure,  the  last  brief 


SERAPIS.  9 

hour  (Iiat  (lie  oxccutioner  nllows  the  coutleinned  criminal.  Life  be- 
longs to  us  no  more;  it  has  become  a  borrowed  purse,  full  of  rusty 
coppers.  The  hard  creditor  already  crooks  his  finger  at  our  door, 
rnc"enioymeni;'M«.'.  l*".''  m^neve  is  ended.  One  more  true,  genu- 
be  ilius.  '  ""    ^        capital,  and  interest,  if  it  must 

"Soil  must  not  and  will  not  be!"  interposed  Herse,  u^^.^.^...j , 
drawing  her  hand  across  her  eyes.  "  It  Agues  sings,  if  she  does  it 
without  compulsion  and  ot  her  own  accord,  then  no  bishop  can  pun- 
ish us." 

"  He  can  not,  and  dare  not!"  cried  the  old  man,  "There  are 
laws  and  judges  yet. 

"  And  iaoriro's  house,"  added  Orpheus,  "is  as  respectable  as  it 
is  rich.  Porphyrius  has  the  pover  to  protect  us;  and  you  do  not 
know  how  well  we  pleased  them.     Ask  mother  about  it!" 

"  It  is  like  a  fairy-tale,"  chimed  in  Herse,  with  her  sou's  words. 
"  Before  we  left,  the  old  lady  drew  me  aside  (she  must  be  eighty 
years  old,  or  thereabout),  and  asked  me  where  we  were  staying, 
Theu  i  told  her  at  the  inn  of  Maria,  the  widow,  and  no  sooner  had 
she  licard  this  than  slie  struck  her  stall  against  the  floor,  and  asked, 
'Do  you  like  it  there?'  to  this  1  said,  'Mo,'  emphatically,  adding 
that  we  must  seek  an  abode  elsewhere." 

"  Kiglit,  right!"  cried  Karuis,  "  Those  monks  in  the  court  yon- 
der would  kill  us  as  though  we  were  rats  it  they  heard  us  practic- 
ing pagan  songs." 

'"  1  touched  upon  that;  but  the  old  lady  would  not  let  me  finish 
what  1  was  saying,  but  drew  me  closer  to  herself,  and  whispered 
warmly,  '  Just  do  as  my  grandchild  wishes,  and  your  livelihood  is 
secured;  and  this  is  lor  to-day!'  So  saying,  she  dived  into  the 
purse  at  her  girdle,  pressed  these  gold  pieces  into  mf  hand,  aud  said, 
so  loud  that  the  others  must  have  beard,  '  Fifty  of  my  own  if  Gorgo 
pronounces  herself  satisfied  with  you!'  " 

"Fifty  gold  pieces!"  exclaimed  Karnis,  clapping  his  hands. 
"That  freshens  up  the  pnle  colors  of  life  considerably.  Fifty,  then, 
are  certain.  If  we  siug  six  times,  there  is  a  talent,  and  witn  that  I 
can  buy  back  our  old  vineyard  at  Leontium.  1  shall  restore  the  lit- 
tle Odeum— they  bave  converted  it  into  a  stable— and  if  we  sin* 
there,  just  let  the  monks  come  if  they  will!  'i  ou  laugh!  Fools 
that  you  are!  1  should  like  to  see  anybody  hinder  my  singing  under 
my  own  vine  aud  tig-tree.  A  talent  of  gold!  That  will  fully  pay 
its  price;  aud  1  shall  not  strike  the  bargain,  unless  they  throw  in  the 
necessary  number  of  slaves  and  cattle.  Castles  in  the  air,  you 
thiuk?  But  only  bear:  a  hundred  gold  pieces  are  at  le:ist  assured 
to  us—" 

While  this  loud  talk  was  going  on,  the  curtain  had  been  gently 
moved  aside,  and  the  feeble  light  of  the  small  lamp  that  stood  before 
Orpheus  fell  full  upon  a  little  head,  that  was  sutticiently  charming, 
even  in  its  present  disordered  condition,  A  profusion  of  fair  hair, 
done  up  in  curling  papers,  stood  up  saucily  all  around  her  head,  and 
fell  over  her  forehead;  her  eyes  were  still  half  closed  from  sheer 
weariness,  but  her  little  mouth  was  already  quite  wide  awake,  and 
laughed  in  all  the  wantonness  of  happy,  jiresumptuous  youth. 

Karuis  continued,  without  oVjserving  his  new  auditor,  to  enlargo 


10  SEllAPIS. 

upon  his  hope  of  oarninp;  the  means  tor  buying  hack  his  lost  estale; 
and  now  Ihe  young  girl  tlrew  tlie  curtain  .;loser  up  to  tier  neck, 
slretclicd  hiT  round  left  arm  far  out,  and  called  out  beseechingly: 

"  Good  father  Kiirnis,  please  give  me  a  little  bit  ot  your  weultb— 
just  live  poor  drachms!"  _,^  ,„,i  ,iie  very  next  instant 

The  smger.stiirtej]^.V-'irf  {Jie""tone  of  a  «ood-natuied  fault-tinder. 
^*'T5ack  to  bed,  you  good-for-nothing  thing!  What  you  have  to  do 
is  to  sleep,  not  listen." 

"  fcsleep?"  asked  the  girl.  "  And  you  shouting  here  like  an  orator 
who  is  talking  against  the  wind.  Five  drachms,  father.  1  must 
insist  on  that!  A  pretty  ribbon  for  me  will  cost  one,  and  there's 
another  for  Agnes  just  as  well.  For  two  drachms,  enough  wine  can 
be  bought  for  us  all;  and  that  would  make  five." 

"  Four  they  make,  j'ou  fine  reckoner,"  laughed  the  old  man. 

"  Four?"  queried  Dada,  looking  as  much  amazed  as  if  the  moon 
had  fallen  out  ot  the  sky.  "  Yes,  if  I  only  had  a  counting-board! 
Five,  then,  papa,  five!" 

*'  No,  four,  and  have  them  you  shall,"  replied  the  sinj,'er.  "  Plu- 
lus  knocks  at  our  door,  and  to-morrow  morning  eaily  you  shall 
both  be  crowned." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  with  violets,  ivy,  and  roses,"  added  her  mother. 
"  is  Agnes  asleep^' 

"  Like  somebody  dead.  That  is  always  the  way  with  her,  unless 
when  she  lies  there  like  a  distracted  person,  with  e^'es  wide  open  the 
livelong  night.  ^Ve  were  both  so  tirel,  and  I  a"m  so  yet.  That 
yawn  did  me  good.     Only  see  how  1  am  sitting!" 

"  On  the  chest?"  exclaimed  Herse. 

"  Yes:  and  the  curtain  gives  way  so  against  my  back.  Fortun- 
ately, when  people  nod  they  alwavs  bend  forR-ard." 

"  How  is  that,  though;  you  had  a  bed  apiece,"  said  the  matron, 
pushing  her  dausrhter  before  her  into  the  sleeping  room,  and  follow- 
ing the  girl  tjehind  the  curtain. 

In  a  few  minutes  she  returned  to  the  men  and  said:  "  That  is  just 
Dada.  Little  Papias  had  slid  off  the  chest  on  which  he  was  lying, 
and  now  the  good  thing  has  put  him  in  her  bed,  and  taken  her  place 
on  the  chest,  tired  as  she  was." 

"  She  would  give  the  last  thing  she  had  to  that  boy,"  said  Karnis. 
"  P>ut  it  is  past  midnight.     Come,  Orpheus,  let  us  fix  up  ilie  bed'^!" 

Three  long  hen-baskets,  which  had  been  piled  one  upon  the  other 
bv  the  wall,  were  soon  placed  on  tiie  floor  and  covered  with  mats. 
They  recfiived  these  wearj^  people;  but  not  one  ot  them  could  sleep. 

The  little  lamp  was  put  out,  and  for  about  an  hour  all  was  quiet 
ill  the  gloomy  room.  But  tlien  there  was  a  terrible  stir.  An  elastic 
olijfct  flew  whirring  at  the  wall,  and  ihcieupon  Karnis  called  out, 
"  Away  with  thee,  fiend!" 

"  Wiiat's  the  matter?"  asked  Herse,  who  had  gotten  up  in  her 
fright:  and  the  old  man  returned  eneriretically,  "A  demon,  a  dog 
ot  a  demon  is  besetting  me,  and  leaves  me  no  rest.  Hold,  you 
scoundrel,  maybe  this  will  hit  j^ou." 

Bo  saying,  lie  threw  another  sandal  through  the  air.  and  then 
Went  on  panting,  without  paying  any  heed  to  the  rustling  sound 
of  some  object  that  he  had  acuideulally  struck:  "  the  trickish  gob- 


SERAPIS.  1 1 

lin  will  not  lot  me  alone.  It  knows  that,  we  need  Agnes'  voice, 
and  now  wliispers,  sometimes  iu  one  ear,  and  then  into  the  other, 
that  1  must  threaten  her  with  selling  hei  little  brother  if  she  reluses; 
))ui  l_l_strilie  a  light.  Orpheus!  The  girl  is  a  good  one;  and  be- 
fore 1  would  commit  such  an  evil  deed — " 

"  The  demon  has  been  with  me,  too,"  said  the  younger  singer, 
as  he  blew  upcn  the  glowing  coals. 

"And  with  me,  too,"  added  Herse  with  shame.  "  Ot  course, 
there  is  not  an  image  of  a  single  god  in  this  Christian  sty.  Away 
with  thee,  horrid  reptile!  AVe  are  honorable  people,  and  give  in  to 
no  rascally  proceedings.  There,  you  have  my  amulet,  husband, 
and  if  the-xlemon  comes  back,  you  must  turn  it,  you  know  how." 


CHAPTER  II. 

Early  on  the  following  morning  the  minstrels  were  on  their  way 
to  tire  house  ot  the  rich  Porphyrins.  The  family  was  not  complete, 
for  Dada  had  been  obliged  to  stay  at  home.  The  old  man's  sboe 
which  had  been  hurled  against  the  demon,  had  pulled  the  girl's 
freshly- washed  dress  dowulrom  a  pole,  near  the  hearth,  and  iu  the 
morning  it  had  been  fouad  lying  in  the  ashes  with  several  great  holc$ 
burned  in  it. 

Dada  did  not  own  another  good  gown,  and  so,  in  spite  of  her  im- 
patient refusal,  and  many  tears,  she  had  to  remain  behind  with 
little  Papias. 

Agues'  earnest  desire  to  fake  her  place  in  attending  to  the  boy, 
and  to  lend  her  a  dress  ot  hers  had  been  peremptorily  declined;  and 
then  Dada,  at  first  quietly  and  good-naturedly,  birt  very  soon  in  all 
cheerfulness,  had  set  to  work  helping  the  others.  She  wove  wreaths 
for  the  rest,  and  a  garland  ot  violets,  and  ivy  sprigs  to  twine  in 
Agnes'  smooth,  dark  hair. 

TJie  men  had  already  anointed  themselves,  and  put  on  crowns  of 
poplar  and  laurel,  when  Porphyrins' steward  appeared,  tor  the  pur- 
pose of  conducting  them  to  his  master's  house.  Already  they  had 
to  exercise  self-denial,  tor  the  messenger  induced  them  to  lay  aside 
their  garlands,  because  they  would  excite  the  ill-will  ot  the  monks 
in  the  court,  and  might  provoke  to  violence  the  Christian  populace 
outside. 

One  illusion  thus  dispelled,  Karnis  had  set  forth  with  a  heart  as 
downcast  as  before  it  had  been  joyous  and  confident  of  victory. 

Tbe  monks,  who  had  crowded  together  in  front  ot  the  inn,  looked 
at  him  and  his  family  with  unfriendly,  suspicious  glances,  and  the 
joyfirl  anticipation  with  which  he  had  looked  forward  to  the  day 
would  not  curiae  back  to  him,  so  long  as  he  must  needs  force  his 
way  through  the  crowds  that  thronged  the  narrow  lanes  lining  the 
liarbor,  which  were  dismal  and  dark,  and  smelled  of  tar  and  salted 
fisii.  The  steward  took  the  lead,  with  Dame  Herse,  and  with 
volubility  gave  her  any  information  she  asked. 

His  master,  he  said,  was  one  of  the  chief  merchants  in  the  city, 
and  had  lost  Ids  wife  about  twenty  years  ago,  at  Gorgo's  birth.  His 
two  sons  were,  at  present,  away  on  their  travels.  The  very  old 
lady,  who  had  yesterday  displayed   such   generosity  toward    the 


12  SERA  PIS. 

eingcrs  was  Damia,  Porphyrins'  mother.  She  had  control  of  a 
large  property'  of  her  own,  and  in  spite  of  her  great  age  still  main- 
tained her  reputation  as  tlie  presidinii:  genius  of  her  household,  and 
a  woman  deeply  learned  in  occult  science. 

J\laria,  the  pious  Christian,  whose  inn  was  dedicated  "  to  the 
martyr."  had  been  married  to  Apelles,  the  brother  ot  Porphyrins, 
but  had  become  wholly  estranged  from  brother  and  mother-in-law. 
This  was  natural  enough,  as  she  stood  at  the  head  of  the  believing 
women  of  Alexandria,  and  the  house  of  Porphyrins,  in  spite  of  its 
niastei's  baptism,  was  as  well  inclined  to  paganism  as  any  in  the 
city. 

Karnis  heard  nothing  of  all  this,  lor,  between  himself  and  his 
wife  walked  two  slaves,  bearing  the  musical  instruments  of  tlie 
minstrels,  and  in  front  of  them,  Orpheus  and  Agnes.  She  kept  hei 
ej'es  constanll.v  fixed  on  the  ground,  as  (hough  she  would  shut  out 
all  consciousness  of  her  surroundings.  If  Orpheus  asked  her  a 
question,  however,  she  shyly  looked  up,  and  answered  briefly  and 
with  embarrassment. 

Following  a  gloomy  passage,  the  party  soon  reached  the  canal, 
which  iinited  the  harbor  Kibotiis  with  Lake  Mocris,  where  ancliored 
the  ships  of  the  Kile.  Karnis  tireathcd  more  freely,  for  here  it  was 
open  and  light,  a  gentle  north  wind  bore  the  refreshing  sea-breeze 
toward  him,  and  the  slim  palm-trees  on  tlie  sides  of  the  street,  edg- 
ing the  water,  threw  long  shadows  over  the  bread  road  below,  that 
was  teaming  with  motley  life,  while  the  full  crowns  of  the  syca 
mores  made'sharlows  that  were  broad  and  deep.  Birds  sung  on  every 
limb,  and  the  aged  singer  drank  in,  with  deep  inspirations,  the 
woudrously  light  and  spicy  breath  of  an  Egyptian  spring  morn- 
ing. 

When  he  had  reached  the  middle  of  a  high-arched  bridge,  that 
spanned  the  canal,  he  suddenly  paused,  and  gazed  toward  the 
south-east,  like  one  spell-bound. 

Possessed  by  a  deep  enthusiasm,  he  threw  up  his  arms,  the  fire 
and  brilliancy  ot  youth  returned  to  his  glistening  eyes,  and— as  was 
always  the  case  when  a  glorious  work  of  God  or  man  filled  his 
heart  with  rapture — unbidden,  there  arose  before  bis  soul  the  image 
of  his  deceased  eldest  son,  between  whom  and  himself  had  existed 
a  perfect  conc,eniality  of  spirit. 

Soon  it  seemed  to  him  as  though  his  arm  rested  upon  the  shoulder 
of  tiie  early-deceased  young  man,  who  far  surpassed  his  second 
quieter  son  Or])heus  in  ideality,  and  as  thouL^h  i)e  were  enjoying  in 
communion  with  him  the  grand  prospect  that  lay  outstretched  be- 
fore him. 

Upon  foundations  of  solid  clill  and  rock  rose  up  before  him  an 
edifice  of  wondrous  size  and  beauty. 

It,  was  gorgeously  illuminated  by  the  morning  sunshine,  and  its 
noble  outlines  in  the  sheen  of  many  a  hue  seemed  actually  to  blaze 
in  dazzling  splendor.  Above  its  gilded  cupola  extended  the  un- 
dimmed  azure  of  an  African  sky.  and  like  tlie  sun  in  the  firmament 
the  lofty,  lustrous  dome  sent  forth  glittering  rays.  Carriage-ways 
and  rows  of  steps  for  devout  pedestrians  led  uji  to  it. 

riie  su')slruclure,  which  sustained  this  maivelous  workot  human 
hands,  ri/,.,  the  tein{)li>  of  the  god  Serapis,  was  laid  as  firmly  as 


SKRAriS.  13 

though  for  eternity,  and  the  columns  in  its  vestibule  supported  the 
roof  of  a  structure  which  seemed  destined  for  the  grandeur  of 
heavenly  beings  rather  than  for  tlie  insignificance  of  mortals. 

Like  children  sporting  under  the  tall'trees  of  an  immense  forest, 
priests  and  worshipers  moved  about  beneath  them. 

Upon  the  projections  of  the  roof,  in  hundreds  of  niches,  and  upon 
numberless  prominent  parts,  all  the  gods  of  Olympus,  all  the  heroes 
and  sages  of  Greece,  seemed  to  have  been  convened,  and  here  greeted 
the  comer  in  shining  brass,  there  in  beautifully  painted  marble. 

Gold  and  a  brilliant  display  of  color  shone  down  from  all  quarters 
of  this  structure,  and  the  effect  in  its  entity  was  like  a  beautiful 
choral  song  from  the  capacious  chest  of  some  benevolent  giant. 

"  Hail!  high  ^erapis!  Gladly,  humbly  do  I  greet  thee.  1  thank 
thee,  that  it  1s  permitted  these  old  eyes  once  more  to  behold  thy 
divine,  everlastina;  house!"  murmured  Karnis,  reverentially,  to 
himself.  Then  he  called  his  wife  and  son,  pointed  silently  to  the 
temple,  and  when  he  sa<v  how  Orpheus'  eyes  hung  in  awed  and 
silent  rapture  upon  the  glorious  forms  of  the  Serapeum,  he  Cidled 
out  with  fervor:  "  N'ohle  fortress  of  the  King  of  Gods,  lofty 
Serapis!  We  see  here  no  work  of  a  day.  Its  past  covers  half  a 
century,  its  future  eternity!  Yes,  yes,  tiiere  she  stands,  and  while 
she  abides  in  such  glory  the  old  gods  are  not  yet  vanquished." 

"INobody  touches  that  building,"  chimed'in  the  steward,  "for 
every  child  in  Alexandria  knows  that  the  doom  of  tiie  world  is 
sealed  just  so  soon  as  they  lay  hands  on  it,  and  whoever  profanes 
the  venerated—" 

"  It  protects  itself,"  interposed  the  singer.  "  But  you,  ye  Chri* 
tian  hypocrites,  who  pretend  to  hate  life  and  love  death,  it  you  long 
so  after  the  end  of  all  things,  set  yourselves  in  array  against  this 
prodigy!     Just  set  to!  set  to!" 

The  old  man  shook  his  fist  in  the  face  of  an  invisible  foe.  hut 
Herse  repeated  after  him  passionately:  "  Set  to,  set  to!"  and  then 
continued  more  composedly:  "  If  everything  comes  to  naught,  the 
enemies  of  the  gods  will  perish  with  us;  and  since  at  the  same  time 
there  is  an  endlo  all  that  is  beautiful  and  all  that  we  love,  that  can 
not  frighten  us!" 

"Make  yourself  easy!"  replied  the  steward.  "  The  bishop  had 
already  stretched  out  his  hand  against  this  sanctuary,  but  the  great 
Olympius  stayed  the  hands  of  these  desecrators  of  holj''  things,  and 
they  had  to  withdraw  with  bloody  heads.  Our  Serapis  is  not  to  be 
trifled  with.  He  remains,  whatever  else  may  pass  away.  '  Eternity,' 
says  the  priest,  '  is  with  him  as  alittla  minute,  and  when  nullions  ot 
the  generations  ot  men  have  faded  away,  he  will  be  ever  the  same 
as  to-day.'  " 

"  Hail!  Hail  to  the  exalted  godl"  called  out  Orpheus,  extend- 
ing his  hands  toward  the  temple. 

"  Yes,  hail!  hail  to  him  the  imperishable!"  echoed  his  lather. 
"  Great  is  Serapis!     His  house  and  his  images  will  last — " 

"  Until  the  moon  is  full  again!"  interrupted  a  passer-by,  taking 
«p  his  words  in  bitter  mockery,  and  shaking  his  fist  threateningly 
at  the  temple. 

Orpheus  turned  to  chastise  this  prophet  of  evil;  but  he  had  quick 
ly  been  lost  in  the  crowd  that  surged  onward  in  an  unceasing  tlow 


It  SERAPIS. 

"  Until  \ho.  moon  is  full  aRain!"  miirmurert  Agnes,  who,  like  the 
proplict  (){  evil,  hiid  shuddered  at  Orpheus'  eulliusiaslic  outburst. 
Tlieii  she  ciisi  a  troubled  jihiuce  upon  the  young  singer,  and  yet 
wlien  llerse  turned  uud  lool^ed  at  lier  a  few  minutes  later,  the  ex- 
pression ot  her  features  had  altered,  and  the  matron  could  rejoice 
in  the  iiappy  smile  that  played  about  her  lips.  Many  a  young  Alex- 
andiian.  too,  who  passed  by  the  stiangers,  both  on  loot  and  in  car- 
riages, looked  around  after  her,  for  that  smile  lent  to  her  pale,  seri- 
ous count' nance  a  mysterious  chaim.  And  it  clung  to  her  still 
after  she  had  left  the  bridge,  and  approached  tlie  shoies  of  the  lake, 
for  when  a  pleasant  thought  had  once  nestled  in  her  bosom,  long 
was  it  fostered  tiieie;  and  now  as  she  moved  along  in  the  brilliant 
light  ot  morning  sunshine,  there  arose  before  her  inner  eye  tlie  full 
mnon  in  the  niglitly  sky,  slie  saw  the  downfall  of  the  huge  idol,  and 
over  the  ruins  ot  the  marble  temple  an  unconfjuerable,  shining  host 
Aiiostles  and  martyrs  were  in  the  throng,  the  blessed  and  glorious 
Hedeenier  led  the  van,  and  ui  the  light  clouds  that  encircled  him 
floated  l)right  angels  sinking  glorious  songs  that  were  distinctly 
audii)le  toiler  inner  ear  in  the  midst  of  tlie  confusing  hubbub  ot 
that  liusy  jiort. 

Not  until  she  was  summoneci  to  take  her  place  in  a  boat  were 
lhe*e  visions  dispelled. 

llerse  had  originally  come  from  Alexandria,  and  Karnis  had 
spcni  some  delightful  years  here;  but  lo  Orpheus  and  Agnes  all 
was  novel;  anil  so  soon  as  they  had  escaped  from  the  loud  din  of 
the  mullilude  that  had  so  distressed  her,  even  the  Christian  began  to 
take  an  interest  in  her  surroundings,  and  now  and  then  addressed  a 
question  to  tlie  old  singer.  The  younger  man  had  not  eyes  enouglx 
for  seeing,  and  indeed,  there  was  many  a  thing  here  to  evoke  ad- 
miration. 

Therp  lay  the  great  water-gates  at  the  entrance  of  the  canal,  that 
joined  the"  lake  to  the  sea;  tliere  in  an  especial  harbor  rocked  the 
stately,  imperial  fleet  of  the  Nile,  whose  ships  had  to  maintain  the 
communication  between  lie  garrison  of  Alexandria  and  the  upper 
and  lower  Nile;  there  basked  the  gorgeously  ornate  vessels,  that 
weie  at  the  disposal  of  the  comes,  the  prefecl,  and  other  high  offi- 
cials; finally,  there  lay  at  anchor  merchantmen  of  every  size  in 
countless  nrultiludts.  Like  immense  Hocks  of  birds  fluttering  over 
;i  corn-field,  long  rows  ot  sails  in  every  color  floated  above  the 
gently  undulating  surface  of  the  mirror-like  hike.  Every  inch  <>t 
the  land  edging  iis  shoies  had  been  built  upon  and  utilized.  To 
the  siMith,  .s'trelching  far  away  in  the  distance,  were  seen  long  rows 
ot  8epaliers,  niakinL''  ricli  vineyards,  witli  the  shimmering  ot  bluish- 
green  foliage,  that  told  of  boundless  olive-groves,  and  liedges  of 
slender-stemmed  palm-trees,  whose  crowns  combined  to  form  a 
lieautituliy  arched  canopy  oveihead. 

White  garden  walls,  many  colored  temples,  chapels,  and  villas 
Rhone  lorth  Irom  the  gicen  iiackground;  and  there  was,  as  it  were, 
the  Hashing  of  diamonds,  wheii  the  oblique  rays  of  the  sun  teli 
at h wait  the  drops  of  water  that  were  kept  in  unceasing  jilay  by  the 
p(!rpetual  rotation  of  w,iter- wheels  and  buckets.  Water-works  of 
artisti<;  construction,  many  of  them  devised  and  .set  in  moiion  liy  the 
greatest  scientists,  had  been  the  weapons  with  whicli  man  liad  com- 


SEUAris.  15 

pplled  llie  dcpert,  flmt  orijiinally  encompassed  Ibis  lake,  to  deck 
herself  in  green,  and  now  reward  him  for  his  seed  vvitii  harvest  and 
fruit.  Every  trace  ot  a  wilderness  hereabout  had  been  lost  for  huu- 
drtds  ot  years.  The  generous  Dionysiiis  and  lavish  gods  of  llic 
garden  hud  blessed  the  diligent  hand  of  man,  and  yet,  on  many- 
estates,  yea,  on  all  that  belonged  to  Christians,  their  images  lay 
crushed  and  trampled  on  the  ground. 

J  low  many  changes  had  taken  place  in  the  course  ot  lliirty  years, 
and  none  agreeable,  according  to  this  old  man's  view,  llerse,  loo. 
shook  her  head  trequently,  and  when  the  oarsman  had  measured 
about  halt  !he  distance,  she  pointed  to  a  liroad,  bare  spot  on  the 
shore,  wlieiea  new  election  was  already  rearing  itself,  big  i  aljove 
its  foundations,  and  called  out  to  her  husband.  In  melancholy  tones: 

"  r^o  you  recognize  that  spot?  What  has  become  of  our  dear  old 
temple  of  DionysiusV" 

At  these  words,  Kamis  rose  up  po  quickly  and  suddenly  that  the 
boat  threatened  to  turn  over,  and  the  steward  had  to  urge  upon  hiui 
the  necessity  f^r  keeping  motionless;  but  he  gave  podr  heed  to  this 
warning,  for  liis  arms  were  still  waving  wildly,  as  he  cried  out  tc 
him: 

"  Think  you,  that  in  Egypt  here,  people  must  turn  to  mummies 
while  they  are  still  alive?  Let  somebody  else  keep  quiet!  It  is 
shameful,  vile;  enough  to  make  a  dove  even  swell  wilii  rage!  That 
clorious  editice,  the  ornament  of  the  city,  the  joy  ot  mankind, 
swept  from  creation,  blown  away,  like  the  dust  ot  llie  streets.  See! 
Do  you  see!  Shattered  columns,  marble,  limbs,  here,  there,  every- 
where, at  the  oottom  of  the  lake!  This  head,  that  torso!  Inspired 
by  the  gi'ds,  creat  masters  have  fashioned  them,  and  they,  tlie  piti- 
ful, ignoble  creatures,  possessed  hy  evil  demons,  have  laid  them  in 
ruins.  They  have  buried  under  water  what  was  wor-thy  to  have 
lived  forever.  Why?  Would  you  know?  Because  they  shun  the 
beautitul,  as  the  owls  do  light.  Yes,  they,  they!  Nothing  do  they 
fear  and  hale  so  much  as'beauty.  Wherever  she  shows  hei'self 
they  crush  her  down,  though  come  direct  from  the  hand  of  deity. 
Before  the  immortals  1  arraign  them;  for  what  has  become  of  the 
grove— surely  plained  by  lieaven;  not  man— our  grove  with  its  cool 
grottoes,  its  trees  of  immemorial  date,  its  shady  recesses,  and  all 
the  pleasure  and  delight  of  which  it  was  as  full  as  the  ripe  berry  of 
sweet  juice?" 

"  An'  it  please  yorr  it  was  uprooted,"  interposed  the  steward. 
"  The  emperor  presented  the  sanctuary  to  Bishop  Theupliilus,  and 
he  devoted  it  to  instant  destruction.  The  temple  was  demolished, 
the  sacred  utensils  melted  up,  and  the  images  mocked  at  before 
they  were  cast  into  lime  kilns.  The  house  over  there  is  a  Chrii^tian 
church.  Think  of  the  airy,  bright-hued  colonnades  of  other  days, 
and  then  look  at  that  dismal  barn  growing  up  in  their  place!" 

"  Why  do  the  gods  suffer  it?  Has  Zeus  lost  his  thunderbolts?" 
asked  Orpheus,  clinching  his  fist,  without  paying  any  heed  to 
Agnes,  who  sat  there,  pale,  and  reticent,  since  the  conversation  had 
taken  that  turn. 

"He  slumbers,  to  rouse  up  again  with  more  dreadful  power,"  le- 
plied  the  old  man. 

"  Oh,  the  broken  marbles,  the  luiiia  down  there!     A  quck  art, 


16  SEUAl'lS. 

tli;il  o(  the  di'Stroycr!  Men  liave  Insl  their  senses  ami  put  up  wllli 
the  cMiiie.  The}'  liavc  cast,  into  tlie  water  ami  oven  wlial  enrapl- 
ured  the  koiIs.  Prudent,  prudent,  and  wise!  Tlie  tisli  and  Ihinies 
are  mute,  and  eim  not  lift  u])  a  plaint,  A  hloud-hound,  a  single 
hour  sullices  to  bring  to  naught  wiial  it  has  taken  exalted  niind.s 
and  centuries  to  create.  To  lay  waste  and  destroy  is  their  boast,  but 
a  temple  such  as  tlie  one  thiit  stood  tliere  can  be  restored  just  as 
little  as  a  grove,  with  its  trees  six  hundred  years  old.  jjook  there! 
Do  you  see,  llerse?  There,  in  yon  ])il,  wheie  those  black  fellows 
are  mixing  lime — they  have  put  on  shirts,  because  even  the  fine 
form  i-f  the  huniiin  body  is  baleful  to  tbeiu — theie  wiis  the  grotto, 
where  we  tound  your  poor  father  agiiin." 

"  Tlie  giotto?"  echoed  the  matron,  gazing  shoreward  with  moist- 
ened eyes,  as  she  thought  of  that  day  when  the  feast  of  Dionysius 
was  being  celebrated,  and  she,  as  a  young  girl,  bad  liastened  to  the 
temple  of' the  gods  searching  lor  her  (alher.  He  had  been  a  skill- 
ful lapidary,  and  in  honor  of  that  god's  festival,  in  accordance 
with  an  old  Alexandrian  custom,  had  intoxicated  himself  with 
sweet  wine,  and  gone  out  upon  the  street  to  join  in  the  Dionysiaa 
procession.  When,  however,  he  did  not  come  home  the  next  morn- 
ing, and  both  noon  and  evening  found  liim  still  absent,  his  daugh- 
ter had  set  forth  to  look  for  him.  Karnis,  at  that  time,  had  been  a 
wealthy  young  student,  and,  as  a  boarder,  had  occupied  ihe  best 
rooms  in  her  father's  house.  He  had  met  her  on  her  dif^cult  er- 
rand, and  had  been  kindly  ready  to  aid  her  in  her  search;  and  they 
had  found  her  missing  parent,  in  an  ivy-wreathed  grollo,  in  Diony- 
sius' grove,  cold  and  motionless,  as  though  struck  down  by  light- 
ning. The  by -slanders  had  supposed  that  the  god  had  entranced 
his  votary. 

During  these  dark  hours  Kainis  had  stood  her  friend,  and  a  few 
months  later  she  ha<t  given  him  her  hfuid  in  marriaue,  and,  as  his 
wife,  accompanied  him  to  his  home  at  Tauromenium,  in  iSiciiy. 

All  this  now  passed  before  her  soul,  and  her  husband,  too,  looked 
down  silently  and  moodilv  inio  the  wti  r,  for  each  spot  that  lias 
witnessed  some  important  crisis  in  our  life's  history,  if  .seen  again 
after  a  long  absence,  has  power  to  make  the  past  live  anew  in  Ihe 
present. 

All  remained  thus  silent  in  the  boat,  until  Orpheus  touched  his 
father,  and  pointed  out  to  him  the  temple  of  Isis,  in  which  he  had 
yesterday  met  the  beautiful  young  lady. 

The  old  man  turned  his  eyes  upon  that  still  uninjured  shrine, 
and  said  bitterly: 

"  A  barbarous  structure.  Egpytian  art  has  long  since  been  a 
thing  of  the  dead,  and  the  tiger  may  only  devour  the  living  " 

"  And  yet  Ibis  .shrine  is  no  such  contemptible  morsel,"  rejoined 
the  steward;  "  but  it  hangs  too  high  for  them,  because  Ihe  ground 
on  which  it  stands  belongs  to  our  old  mistress,  and  the  law  proiicls 
private  property.  But  later  you  must  really  look  at  the  dock  here. 
There  is  priibal)ly  not  a  greater  one  on  the  whole  earlh.  The  wood 
that  is  .vtaeked  up  there!  Cedars  of  Lebanon,  oak  from  I'onlus, 
lruid<s  of  trees  from  Fjthiojiia,  as  heavy  and  hard  as  iron— they  are 
bald  to  be  worth  hundreds  of  talents." 

"  Ami  does  that  too  belong  to  your  master'^'  asked  Kuiiiis. 


bEKAl'llS.  17 

"  Nn,  liut  llir  owner  ifc  the  <j;i;iri(]son  of  :i  f rm  iliiiaii  of  our  house. 
Tliey  iiro  now  rich  ami  lespec'ablc  peoiilc,  and  Master  Clement  sits 
in  the  senate.     Tliere  he  is,  tliat  man  in  the  while  robe." 

"  A  Christian,  1  should  thudi.,"  said  the  singer. 

"  To  be  sure,"  replied  the  steward.  "  IJut  justice  must  be  done, 
lie  U  an  honest,  good  man  nevertheless.  iStrict  discipline  is  main- 
tained both  here  and  at  the  other  dock,  on  the  lake,  in  the  liarbor 
(A  Eunostus.  One  thing,  though,  Clement  can  not  let  anybody  en- 
joy his  own  opinion.  In  this  he  is  just  lilie  all  the  rest.  ISIo  matter 
how  niany  slaves  and  workmen  he  buys  or  enrolls,  he  contrives  to 
nudie  them  all  Christians,  and  his  sons  are  precisely  like  the  old 
man.  Conslantine,  too,  although  he  is  an  imperial  officer,  and  as 
spruce  and  spn'  as  the  next  one.  As  for  us,  we  let  everybody  be- 
lieve as  they  choose.  Porphyrins  makes  no  concealment  of  ids 
views,  and  \"el  the  crowds  of  ships  that  we  use  in  the  corn  trade  arc 
all  built  by'Chrisliaus.     But  here  we  are!" 

The  boat  paused  before  a  broad  marble  staircase  that  led  up  from 
the  lake  into  tiie  garden  of  Porphyrins,  andt'ie  deeper  Karuis  pene- 
trated into  this,  the  more  freely  he  breathed;  for  here,  here,  the  old 
divinities  were  at  home.  Their  statues  emerged  resplendent  from 
theu-  dark  back-ground  of  evergreen  shiubbery;  they  were  udrrored 
in  clear  pools,  and  sweet  incense  greeted  the  new-comers,  from  here 
a  garlanded  altar,  there,  a  freshly- anointed  stone. 


CHAPTER  111, 

The  minstrel  family  had  met  with  a  gracious  reception  in  the 
house  of  Porphyrins,  but  had  not  been  called  upon  forthwith  to 
exercise  their  art ;  tor,  no  sooner  had  old  Damia  learned  that  the 
pretty,  curly  haired  blonde,  with  whom  she  had  been  so  much 
pleased  the  day  before,  had  been  left  behind  in  the  mu  of  Maria, 
than  she  had  brougiit  to  Herse  a  robe  of  her  granddaughter's,  and 
begged  her  to  go  back  after  the  young  girl. 

Some  slaves  were  to  attend  them  and  convey  their  luggage  to 
Porphyiius'  Nile  ship  that  lay  at  anchor  before  the  dock.  In  this 
stately  vessel  tliere  were  several  rooms  wbich  had  often  received 
guests  ot  the  house,  and  were  now  to  lodge  Karnis  and  his  fandly. 
They  seemed  especially  adapted  to  the  use  of  musicians,  for  here 
they  could  carry  on  their  practicing  undisturbed,  and  the  ship  was 
at  all  hours  accessible  to  Gorgo. 

Ilerse  had  returned  to  the  inn  with  lightened  heart,  her  son  had 
been  dispatched  to  the  city  to  supply  the  place  of  many  a  thing  lost 
on  tlieir  vojage,  and  Karnis,  overjoyed  at  his  escape  from  that 
monkish  resort,  liad  suffered  his  new  host  to  detain  him  in  the  hall 
set  ap;irt  for  men  only,  and  there  enjoyed  the  good  gifts  which 
forlune  luid  showeied  upon  him  in  the  mansion  of  Porphyrins, 
lleie  breathed  the  spirit  that  had  permeated  his  father's  house,  liere 
he  found  men  who  understood  the  art  of  adorning  existence  in  a 
style  after  his  own  heart,  who  shared  his  enthusiasm  as  also  his 
antipathies.  Here  he  drank  old  wine  out  ot  an  artistically  carved 
onyx  goblet;  what  he  lieard  pleased  him,  and  wliat  he  iaid  met  with 
full  appreciation.     For  the  uncertain  future  ot  his  loved  ones  here 


18  SERAPIS. 

opened  up  prospects  only  a  little  interior  to  those  that  had  boen 
conjured  iw  tlie  da}'  before  by  liis  lively  powers  ot  imauinalion. 
Even  Uioiigli  fortune's  wheel  slioukl  apiiii  turn  tor  him,  the  jiood 
things  tiiat  lie  was  here  enjoyinir  shouhl  be  writttu  down  to  the 
credit  ot  lite,  and,  at  least  in  memory,  remain  his  endurinir  posses 
sion. 

The  hoary-headed  Damia,  her  son  Porphyrins,  llic  tair  Gorjro, 
weie  all  three  persons  of  a  rare  sort,  such  as  one  does  not  often 
uuet  in  life. 

The  woi Idly-wise  merchant  prince  had  judged  the  ladies  to  have 
been  too  hasty  and  incautious  in  thus  dislin.iiuis'aing  these  strange 
musicians,  and,  in  the  beginning,  had  treated  Karnis  with  reserve; 
but  after  a  brief  talk  with  him,  he  had  come  to  the  conviction  that,' 
in  this  case,  he  had  to  do  with  a  man  of  uncommon  culture  and 
true  stamp.  The  old  lady  had  been  tavorahly  inclined  to  tiie 
strangers  from  the  first,  because  tiie  nis^ht  before  the  stars  had  pre- 
dicted to  her  a  pleasant  interview  on  the  morrow. 

Her  will  was  law  under  this  roof.  And  Karnis  could  but  smile 
when  he  heaid  her  call  a  son,  who  must  have  been  a  long  time 
gray,  "  my  child,"  or  listened  to  hei  admonitions  to  one  who 
looked  fully  equal  to  rcgulalinir  tlie  affairs  of  his  own  household. 
A  tall  arm-chair  was  her  throne,  only  left  when  she  wished  to  be 
borne  to  her  observatory  on  the  root  ot  the  house,  where  were  kept 
her  magic  tablets  and  charts.  The  feet  were  ber  only  weak  point, 
but  there  were  arms  in  plenty  at  her  disposal,  ready  to  push  her 
about  or  carry  her  to  table,  into  her  sleeping-apartment,  and.  while 
daylight  lasted,  into  sunny  spots  of  the  house  or  garden.  She  felt 
t'C'St  when  the  rays  of  flclios  fell  upon  her  back,  for  her  old  blood 
needed  their  warmth,  after  the  long  niirht  watches,  whicli  she  still 
kept  in  the  observatory.  Even  in  the  hottest  part  ot  the  day  she  sat 
in  the  sun,  with  a  great  green  shade  over  her  sharp  eyes,  and  who- 
ever desired  to  converse  with  her  must  seek  the  shade  wherever  he 
could.  When,  propped  upon  her  ivory  crutch,  she  followed  a  con- 
versation, in  stooping  posture,  it  seemed  as  though  she  were  per- 
petually on  the  spring,  ready  to  break  in  upon  the  words  of  others. 
She  spoke  her  mind  out,  without  curb  or  reservation,  for  in  a  long 
life-time  the  right  to  have  her  own  way  in  everything  had  alwaj's 
been  conceded  to  this  heiress  ot  a  great  estate.  Everi'wilh  her  sou 
she  claimed  this  privilege,  and  yet  from  that  manly  head  of  the 
house  issued  a  web  whose  root  extended  over  halt  tl;e  earth.  The 
liusbandman  who  tilled  the  fruitful  land  on  the  upper  and  lower 
Nile,  the  shepherds  in  the  Arabian  deserts,  in  Syria,  and  on  the  sil- 
vian  meadows  of  Syrenaica,  the  owners  ot  forests  upon  Lebanon 
and  the  sliores  ot  the  Pontus,  the  miners  in  Spain  and  Sardinia,  the 
l)r()ker8,  the  dealers  and  ship-owners  ot  all  the  seaports  on' the 
Mediteiranean  were  bound  by  these  threads  to  this  house  on  Lake 
Mceris,  and  fell  it  they  were  slackened  or  tightened  bv  the  hand  of 
this  graybeard,  who  submitted  like  a  litllt  ciiild  to  the  guidance  of 
his  mother.  The  property  ot  this  great  merehaiit  had  lurn  so  large, 
while  he  was  yet  a  youth,  tliat  its  increase  could  l)rinii-  no  new  en- 
joyment oitiier  to  himself  or  family,  and  yet  its  aggrandizement  had 
been  liis  lile-long  task.  Like  a  wrestler  aiming  at  the  llisl  prize,  he 
strove  after  u  report  of  high  prolits  on  the  day  when  Lis  accounts 


SERAPIS.  19 

were  nnnii;ill3'  settled  up.  And  liis  mother  not  only  looked  info  the 
Irdiii-r,  Init  lolluwed  up  each  new  enterprise  ol  the  house.  It  the 
decision  of  iiiipoiiunt  questioi^s  was  exceedingly  ditficult  tor  her 
sou  and  his  assistants  lo  come  at,  her  voice  settled  the  matter;  and 
wlien,  in  most  cases  her  judgment  proved  to  have  been  excellent, 
slip  ascribed  it  less  to  lier  own  sharp-sightedness  and  knowledge  of 
tiie  world  tiian  the  hints  given  her  by  the  slais  and  magical  com- 
binations. Her  son  did  not  follow  her  into  this  domain  but  it  was 
veiy  seldom  tiiat  he  contradicted  the  results  arrived  at  in  her  ob- 
servatory'. While  she  turned  niulit  into  day,  he  took  pleasuie  in 
intercourse  with  scholarly  friends,  tor  the  hours  of  relaxation  Irom 
incipient  stnigglinu'  after  gam,  thai  tlie  iiieat  merchant  allowed 
himself,  were  devoted  to  philosophy,  and  the  best  thinkeis  of  zVlex- 
aridiia  esteemed  themselves  piivileged  to  surround  the  hospitable 
board  of  Iheir  wea'thy  patron.  It  rejoiced  him  when  tliey  styled 
liim  a  "Kallias,"  and  the  pagan  professors  in  the  universitiwi  of 
the  scrapeum  and  museum  gladly  recognized  him  as  a  fellow.  They 
knew  that  he  had  iieen  baptized,  but  seeing  that  he  was  sensitive 
on  thai  point,  they  refrained  Irom  all  allusion  lo  it.  The  modesty 
of  his  character  won  people's  hearts,  but  probably  yet  more  a  tinge 
of  despondency  bordering  on  melancholy,  that  imposed  itself  like  a 
barrier  between  the  too-richly  endowed  man  and  the  envoy  of  un- 
fortunates. 

In  the  course  of  conversation  the  aged  Damia  inquirfd  as  to 
Agnes'  origin,  for  it  any  scandal  attached  to  her,  or  it  she  were  a 
slave,  Gor-go  could  not,  of  course,  show  herself  with  her  in  public, 
and  Karnis  would  then  have  lo  practice  "  The  Lament  of  Isis  "  with 
a  free-born  songstress. 

The  old  man  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  invited  the  ladies  and 
Porphyrins  to  form  their  own  conclusion  as  to  that  question. 

Three  years  before,  he  informed  them,  he  had  been  at  Antioch, 
and  witnessed  the  outhrealv  ot  that  great  insurrection  there,  on  ac- 
count of  the  levyini:  ot  taxes.  It  came  to  bloodshed,  and  just  as 
soon  as  it  was  possibl  ,  he  had  left  the  city  with  his  family.  When 
it  grew  dark  he  had  turned  into  a  wayside  inn,  and  there  found 
Agnes  and  her  little  brother  in  the  bands  of  soldiers.  In  the  night 
the  girl  had  sung  a  lullaby  beside  her  little  brother's  couch  in  order 
lo  quiet  him.  So  sweet  and  touching  had  been  the  nielodv  that 
tlovved  from  her  lips  that  himself  and  wite  had  been  induced  on  ac- 
count of  it,  lo  purchase  bolh  herself  and  brother  for  a  trifle,  lie 
had  simply  p;ud  the  price  they  charged;  but  they  bad  not  been 
registered  as  slaves,  and  he  had  caused  no  description  of  their  per- 
sons to  l)e  prepared;  nevertheless,  it  rested  with  himself  to  treat 
tliem  as  slaves  or  dispose  ot  them,  for  the  purchase  had  been  made 
in  the  presence  of  witnesses,  whose  testimony  could  even  now  be 
obtained.  He  had  afterward  learned  from  the  airl  that  her  parents 
had  been  Christians,  and  removed  to  Antioch  only  a  few  years  be- 
fore the  outbreak  ot  the  insurrection.  They  had  had  neither  rela- 
tions nor  intimate  friends  in  that  city.  Their  father,  as  a  tax- 
gatherer  in  the  imperial  service,  iiad  moved  about  a  great  deal,  and 
yet  Khe  remembered  to  have  heard  him  speak  of  Treves  as  his  home. 
The  maiden  had  been  present  when  ine  excited  populace  had 
attacked  the  house  of  her  parents,  and  killed  thesa,  "together  with 


20  sERArrs. 

both  their  servants,  and  her  elder  hrotlier.  At  all  events,  Apnes' 
tallier  had  been  a  hit;h  oUlcer,  prolnibly.  loo,  a  Roman  cilizcii,  and 
if  so— the  merchant  Porphyrins  confirmed  this — tlie  maidfn  and  her 
brother  are,  at  any  time,  entitled  to  claim  their  freedom.  Tiie 
rabble  that  had  dragged  tiie  children  out  \ipon  the  street,  and  then 
beyond  the  city  gaie,  had  been  driven  oil  by  some  soldiers,  froru 
wnom,  however,  Iviirnis  had  bought  them. 

"  And  1  ha^'e  no  reason  to  repent  of  my  bargain,"  concluded  the 
old  man,  "  for  Agnes  is  a  lovely,  gentle  creature.  I  shall  not  speak 
of  ber  voice,  because  you  heard  it  tor  yourselves  yesterday." 

"  And  with  real  rapture,"  exclaimed  Gorgo.  "  If  fiowers  could 
sing  it  would  sound  just  so." 

"  Well,  well!"  rejoined  Kamis.  "Her  voice  is  delightful,  but  it 
lacks  wings.  Au  uncouqueiable  something  cbaius  the  violet  to  the 
ground." 

"  Christian  reflections  T '  exclaimed  Ibe  merchant,  and  old  Daniia 
added : 

"  ,lust  let  Eros  come;  he  will  loosen  her  tongue." 

"  Eros  and  forever  Eros,"  repeated  Gorgo,  with  a  shrug  of  the 
shoulders.  "  Whoever  loves  sutlers  and  drags  a  chain  after  him. 
la  order  to  do  the  best  of  which  one  is  capable,  nothing  more  is 
needed  than  to  be  free,  true,  and  healthy." 

"  That  is  a  great  deal  to  ask,  mistress,"  answered  Karnis,  warmly. 
"  With  these' three  what  is  highest  will  be  accomplished.  But 
Agnes,  how  does  it  stand  with  her?  Who  could  be  lens  free  than  a 
serving  damsel  1  Her  body,  yes,  that  is  sound,  but  her  spirit  sullers 
and  gets  no  rest  from  dread  of  all  those  Christian  horrors— sin,  re- 
pentance and  hell." 

"We  know  those  banes  ot  existence,"  interposed  the  old  lad\'. 
"  Were  you  introduced  into  Maria's  iuu  by  means  of  that  Christian 
girl?" 

"  No,  noble  lady." 

"  But  then— that  saint  usually  selects  her  guests  diflerently;  and 
whoever  is  not  baptized — " 

"  This  time,  however,  she  has  entertained  heathen." 

"  It  is  exactly  this  that  surprises  me.     Tell  me  how  it  happened." 

"  We  were  in  Rome,"  began  the  singer,  "and  through  tlie  inter- 
vention of  my  patrons,  Marcus,  Maria's  son,  look  us  on  board  Ids 
vessel  at  Ostia.  It  anchored  off  Cyi'ene,  for  the  young  gentleman 
wislied  to  take  up  his  brother  there,  and  have  his  company  as  far  as 
Alexandria." 

"  Is  Demetrius  here?"  queried  Porphyrins. 

"  Yes,  sir.  He  came  on  board  our  ship  at  Cyrene.  But  hardly 
had  we  lost  sight  of  the  harbor,  than  we  caught  sight  of  two  pirate 
ships.  Then  was  our  prow  turned,  but  in  wlieeiing  her  about  sud- 
denlj',  she  loclged  upon  a  sand-bank,  and  the  boats  were  launched, 
in  order  to  save  the  lives  of  the  gentlemen  and  the  Consul  Cynegius." 

"  Cynegius  on  his  way  hither?"  asked  Porphyrius  again, 
straightening  himself  up  Rith  animation. 

"He  lau(ie<I  with  us  yesterday  in  the  harbor  of  Eur-oslus.  The 
secretaries  and  olhcers  in  his  retinue  filled  one  boat,  IVliircus  and  his 
t)rother  with  their  attendants  were«to  get  into  tlie  second.     We-aad 


SERAPIS.  21 

the  other  passengers  wouki  have  been  left  it  it  had  not  been  for 
Uada— " 
"  What,  the  pretty  blonde  we  saw  yesterchiy?"  asked  Pamio. 
"On  t  lie  voyage,  Marcus  had  been  greatly  entertained  with  her 
lively  chitchat  and  her  singing,  tor  in  song  she  ran  vie  with  any 
nightingale.  And  so,  when  she  began  to  plead  with  him,  lie  soon 
yielded'aiid  invited  her  into  his  own  boat.  But  the  good  tiling  de- 
clared that  siie  would  rather  leap  into  the  water  than  set  oft  witiiout 
us." 

"  Bravo!  bravo!"  cried  the  old  lady,  and  Porphyrius  added: 

"  A  good  sign  both  tor  the  young  girl  and  yourselves." 

"Marcus,  then,"  continued  the  oki  man,  "  tooli  us— all  of  us— 
into  his  boal,  and  so  we  had  the  good  fortune  to  make  the  laud  once 
more.  A  tew  days  afterward  a  ship  of  war  brouglit  CvnL'.<:;ius,  the 
brothers,  and  ourselves  comfortably  to  this  pbice;  and,  since  we  had 
lost  our  property,  Marcus  gave  us  a  certiticale  that  secured  us  ad- 
mission to  his  mother's  inn.  Then  the  gods  conducted  my  family 
and  myself  to  t)ie  presence  of  this  noble  youns:  lady." 

"  So  Cynegius  is  here,  actually  here?"  asked  Porphyrius,  once 
more;  and,  upon  Rarnis  reiterating  the  statement,  he  turned  uneasily 
to  his  mother,  and  said:  "  Olympius  is  not  back  yet.  Always  the 
same,  as  rash  as  a  younsr  m'an.  If  they  catch  him!  The  streets 
swarm  with  monks.  Something  is  going  on.  Hitch  up  your  horses, 
Cyrus,  directly!  The  great  Atlas  shall  accompany  me.  Cynegius 
here!     Ah!— ah!     Thank  the  gods!" 

This  exclamation  was  called  forth  by  the  appearance  of  a  closely 
muffled  man,  who  hail  just  that  instant  entered  the  apartment,  and 
while  he  threw  back  the  cape  of  his  cloak,  and  unloosed  the  gieat 
cloth  that  encircled  his  neck,  and  had  concealed  a  long,  white  beard, 
he  cried  out,  drawing  a  long  breath  of  relief: 

"  Would  i  were  there  again!  Cynegius  is  here;  it  gr-^ws  serious, 
friends!" 

"  And  you  were  in  the  museum?"  asked  the  merchant. 

"  ladubiiably.  1  found  them  all  there  together.  Brave  fellows! 
They  hold  by  us  and  the  gods.  Arms  enough  are  in  liand.  The 
Jews*  do  not  stir.  Onias  thinks  that  he  can  go  their  surety,  and  we 
are  a  match  for  the  monks  and  imperial  cohorts." 

"  It  the  gods  lund  their  aid  both  to-day  and  to-morrow,"  rejoined 
Pori^liyrius  thoughtfully. 

"  Forever,  if  the  people  do  their  duty,"  cried  the  other,  "  "Who 
is  that  stranger?" 

"The  chief  of  the  musicians  to  whom  we  listened  yesterday," 
replied  Gorgo. 

"  Karuis,  son  of  Herse  of  Tauromenium,"  said  the  singer,  mak- 
ing a  bow  to  the  stranger,  whose  majestic  shape  and  finely  developed 
head  had  filled  him  with  admiration. 

"  Karnis  of  Tauromenium!"  repeated  he,  in  a  tone  of  joyful  sur- 
prise. "  By  Hercules!  a  singular  meeting!  Your  hand,  give  me 
your  hand,  my  old  friend!  How  many  years  have  passed  since  you 
and  1  emptied  the  last  wine-jug  at  the  "house  of  old  Hippias?  Seven 

*  At  that  time  two  tliirds  of  the  whole  population. 


'i'-i  SERAPTS. 

liisicrs  make  the  hair  gray,  but  wo  two  hold  our  own  yet.     Novr, 
tell  nil-,  sou  ol  Heise,  who  :im  1?" 

"  Voii  :ire  Olyiiipius,  the  great  Olynipiiis!"  cried  Karnis,  joyfully 
(laspiiig  tlic  iirollered  huud.  "  All  the  f;ods  bless  this  happy  nioru- 
iii.ii!" 

"  All  llie  gods!  That  is  a  speech,"  cried  the  piiilosopher.  "  You 
have  not,  tiien,  crept  under  the  yoke  of  the  cross?" 

"  The  world  is  only  joytul  in  the  company  ot  the  gods,"  cried 
Karnis,  in  a  l)urst  of  enthusiasm. 

"  And  we'll  keep  them  joyful,  and  guard  them  against  eclipse," 
r  Rjionded  the  other,  warmly.  "A  critical  time  has  come.  No 
mi'ie,  as  of  old,  is  llie  question  one  ot  trifles.  No  more  do  we  fasii 
our  l)raius  over  toolisUaess,  and  fancy  that  tlie  fate  ot  the  world 
hangs  '.ipon  the  decision  of  such  idle  dis(;u&sions,  as  whether  man. 
(lies  in  the  last  instant  of  life  or  in  the  first  moment  of  death.  Now, 
llie  question  Is:  Are  the  old  gods*  to  reign?  are  we  to  lead  a  free, 
<j\:u\  life,  with  the  heavenly  beingp  on  liigli,  or  liow  the  neck  before 
ilit'Crueilied  Sou  ot  the  carpenter  and  His  gloomy  doctrines;  Ihecon- 
llici  here  is  fought  lor  the  highest  good  oi  humanity— " 

"1  know,"  said  Karnis,  interrupting  hini,  "yon  stood  up 
valiantly  for  the  great  JScrapis.  Hantls  were  about  to  be  laid  upon 
hi**  sanctuary  but  you  compelled  the  miscreants  to  give  up  their 
desiirn.  and  retreat.     The  others  came  off  scatheless—" 

"  But  lliey  have  shown  me  what  my  head  is  woitk  to  them," 
laughed  Olympius.  "  Evagrius  has  set  the  price  of  three  Idkiils 
upi.n  my  head.  For  that  one  could  buy  a  house,  and  if  his  views 
ar-e  modest  he  might  live  upon  its  rent,  i  have  kept  it  intact, 
Ihough,  yet,  as  you  see.  This  noble  man  here  keeps  me  concealed 
in  his  iiouse.  We  have  matters  for  talk  togeiher.  Porphyrins  ;iri(l 
you,  gracious  Gor-go.  do  not  for  a  moment  lose  sight  ot  the  festival 
of  Isis.  ,lirst  because  Cynegius  is  here  it  must  be  celebi-ated  in  full 
splendor.  He  is  to  ri  port  to  the  emperor,  who  sends  him  here,  how 
Jlu!  Alexandrians  are  minded.  Where  is  that  large-eyed  maiden 
wiiom  we  saw  yesterday?" 

"  In  the  garden,"  I'eplied  Gorgo. 

"  She  is  to  sing  at  the  foot  of  tlie  bier,"  cried  the  philosopher. 
"  That  is  settled." 

"It  1  can  persuade  the  Christian  to  do  so,"  remarked  Karnis, 
thoughtfully. 

"  She  must,"  assevei'aled  the  philosopher.  "  U  wouUi  be  a  bad 
commcidary  ujion  Alexandria's  rheloricid  and  logical  arls  if  an  old 
dispulani  should  not  succeed  in  changing  the  iiiind  of  a  simple  gii'l. 
Let  that  tnsk  be  mine.  We  shiill  see  each  other  soon  again,  noble 
ladies.  I  Jinpe  to  convei'se  with  you  later,  Friend  Karnis'  Hoiv  in 
the  tvorld  have  you  chanced  to  become  the  leader  ot  a  minstrel  harul? 
you,  who  used  many  a  tinu?  to  come  to  the  aid  of  the  rest  of  us  with 
your  father's  gold.  You  have  niuch  to  tell  ine,  my  friend;  but 
business  will  not  wait.     A  wor-il  with  you,  dear  Porphyriirs." 

"While  tills  conversation  was  guin';-  on,  Aiines  had  lieen  awaitiuL' 
Il(!i"se's  i-eturn  in  the  colonnade  wliich  conducted  to  the  front  carden 
ot  the  villa.  Six;  was  shid  to  he  alone,  and  rested  deliuhtfully  upon 
the  soft  cushion  l)eneath  the  gilded  and  Iresc'oed  ceiliili:  o(  ili"is  opi  ii 
place.     All  along  its  sides  stood  closely-set  shrubs,   ilense  in  tlieir 


SEUAPIS.  *a 

foliage,  !ui!l  full  '^f  vif>lct -colored  Mowers,  nr,cl  their  branches  boldly 
jpir.iTli'd  and  cast  triciully  shadows  upon  her  resUnf^-place.  There 
she  enjoyed  the  periiiine  ot  the  strange,  sweet  blossoms,  ever  and 
anon  lusting  ol  the  light  repast  that  Gorgo  herself  had  placvid  belore 
lur. 

What  she  saw,  heard,  and  felt  here  sootlicd  her  senses.  Juicier 
peaches,  fuller,  more  perfect  clusters  of  grapes,  tresher  pomegianates 
and  lighter  cakes  she  had  never  seen  or  happened  to  taste  belore. 

In  llie  clumps  of  foliage-plants  in  the  garden,  and  on  the  grass- 
jilols  between  the  paths  there  was  not  a  single  withered  leaf,  nut  a 
(by  straw,  not  a  miserable  weed.  Here  buds  were  swelling  on  the 
bouuhs  of  some  ancient  tree,  there  whole  rows  of  shrubs  were  cov- 
ered with  richly-scented  Howers,  white  and  blue,  golden  yellow  and 
red;  and  generous  fruits  peeped  brightly  forth  from  the  dark-green 
glistening  leaves  of  lemon  and  orange-trees.  On  a  round  lake  in  her 
neighborhood,  black  swans  described  their  silent  circles,  and  occa- 
sionally littcd  up  their  plaintive  voices.  The  merry  singing  of  birds 
mingled  with  the  splashing  of  fountains,  and  the  very  marble 
statues,  mute  as  they  were,  seemed  to  enjoy  the  pleasant  morning 
breezes,  and  the  sounds  betokening  lite  around  them. 

Yes,  it  was  well  to  be  here;  and,  when  she  had  broken  another 
peach,  and  its  tender  juicy  flesh  had  imparted  to  her  tongue  its  spicy 
Havor,  she  could  not  help  smiling  at  the  remembrance  of  the  hard 
ship-biscuit  that  had  been  her  portion  yesterday  and  the  day  be- 
fore. Ah!  how  delightful  it  would  be,  like  that  fair  Gorgo,  to 
enjoy  such  good  things  day  after  day,  and  year  after  year!  ffere  it 
was  like  Eden,  the  first  sweet  home  of  man,  ere  care  had  clouded 
his  existence.  Here  there  could  be  no  pain,  heie  nobody  wept,  hero 
no  compunction  for  sin  was  felt.  To  die  here —  Here  she  paused, 
and  a  new  train  of  thoughts  forced  itself  upon  her.  She  was  still 
so  young,  and  yet  she  was  already  as  familiar  with  death  as  with 
earthly  life;  tor  whenever  she  had  confided  to  her  spiritual  adviser 
that  she,  an  orphan  and  deprived  of  her  liberty,  sufl'ered  much 
inward  grief,  the  comfort  given  her  had  ever  reference  to  a  here- 
after, and  the  joys  of  Paradise.  And  out  of  that  hope,  the  dreamer 
had  created  all  that  a  young  artist  soul  needed  of  enjoyment,  to  save 
it  from  despair. 

"  Now,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  how  hard  it  must  be  to  die  in  all 
tins  splendor.  To  live  here;  was  not  that  to  forego  the  joys  ot 
paraise,  and  in  the  heaven  beyond,  among  the  angels  of  God,  with 
her  Saviour,  must  it  not  be  a  thousand  times  more  beautiful  than  this 
place?" 

A  slight  shudder  thrilled  her,  for  here  she  would  be  no  longer 
accounted  among  the  poor  and  suffering,  to  whom  Christ  himself 
had  promised  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven;  here  she  belonged  to  those 
rich  who  had  to  look  forward  to  no  inheritance  beyond  the  grave. 

Oppressed  in  heart,  slie  pushed  the  peach  from  her,  and  closed 
her  eyes,  in  order  to  look  no  more  upon  all  this  perishable  glory  and 
sinful  display  of  heathendom  upon  which  her  senses  had  been  feast- 
ing. 

She  preferred  being  wretched  here  below,  in  order  to  be  forever 
reunited  with  her  parents  beyond  the  skies. 

She  not  only  believed,  it  amounted  to  certainty  with  her,  that  her 


41  SERAI'is. 

f:iilicr  and  inollicr  iilKwic  in  licavcii,  iiml  oficii  slio  liad  {.'i  ti,o  j,,,. 
I'lilsi- lo  praj'  for  tlralli  and  icunion  willi  tlicso  dear  i>arcnis;  liiu, 
M.c  iliirst,  not  (lie  yd  iiwJiiln.  tor  lier  link-  biolJier  liail  nc.-tl  of  Int. 
'riic  cliilil  lacked'  not  tor  .uood  allenlion  to  his  bodily  wants  uilli 
Ihosc  iviniMu'artftl  people  iii  whose  servi:;e  slie  was:  but  wjlhout  tiiat 
chiid  siie  (lid  not  want  lo  ai)i)ear  heloie  her  parents,  and  he  was  ti>r- 
cver  lost  if  she  should  commit  liis  young  soul  lo  the  keeping  ot  the 
enemies  of  her  failli. 

Her  heart  grew  sore,  whenever  she  thougiit  that  this  whole  ta.nily 
weie  doomed  to  eternal  ruin.  Kaiuis,  wlio  ceitainly  coukl  not  be 
deemed  a  had  man,  and  whom  she  was  compelled  to  reverence,  as  a 
master  in  the  art  that  she  loved  — the  kind,  ever  considerale  Ilerse— 
the  Iroliosome  Dada,  yes,  and  Orpheus  too,  ail  m\M.  be  losi.  To 
save  these  last,  she  ivoukl  have  freely  foregone  herself  many  ot  Ihe 
joys  of  Paradise.  She  saw  plainly  that  he  clung  as  cK-sely  to  idol- 
atry ;is  his  parents,  and  yet  slie  |.ia3-e!l  daily  lor  Ihe  salvation  of  his 
soul,  and  she  ceased  not  lo  hope  thai  a  minicle  might  be  i)erformed, 
thai  he  would  live  to  gee  his  day  ot  Damascus,  and  liccon)e  a  con- 
fessor fur  Christ. 

It  was  so  pleasant  when  he  was  near,  and  she  never  felt  happier 
than  when  it  fell  to  her  lot  lo  sing  with  hin^.  or  accompany  his  skill- 
ful playing  on  Ihe  lule.  It  it  soTnelimes  happened  to  her  to  forget 
lierseli"an(l  put  into  her  full,  rich  voice  all  Ihat  was  noblest  and 
best  in  h<'r  heart,  iintl  he— whose  ear  was  no  less  line  than  his 
rathcr's— would  nod  her  his  approval  at  such  a  moment,  she  loveil 
life  and  found  it  brautiful. 

In  nmsic  fhe  possessed  a  link  that  united  her  with  Orpheus,  and 
when  h'  r  s  )ul  was  exalted  she  could  feel  anrl  think  in  song.  ]\Iusic 
was,  lor  her,  the  language  of  the  heart,  and  experience  bad  proved 
lo  lier  Ihat  the  heathen, loo.  coukl  speak  and  understand  it.  Even 
hir  heavenly  father  must  have  pleasure  in  a  voice  like  Gorgo's. 
Tliis  young  lady  was  a  heathen,  and  yet  her  son^  had  expressed  all 
that  she  hciself  feU  when  her  heart  was  uplifted  in  fervent  prayer. 

Often  hart  it  been  said  to  her  that  the  Christian  must  share  noth- 
ing with  idolaters,  but  God  Himself  had  siivcn  her  into  the  hand  of 
Karnis,  the  church  commanded  servants  to  obey  their  masters;  and 
tong  seemed  lo  her  like  a  peculiar  language  with  which  God  had 
fi.dowed  all  animated  beings,  yes,  birds"loo,  in  onler  that  they  might 
f.peak  with  Him,  and  so  she  rejoiced,  wholly  unconscious  that  it 
would  soon  be  her  portion  to  blend  her  own  voice  with  that  of  the 
iiealheu  maiden. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

SiioitTT.Y  after  the  merehnni  and  philosopher  had  withdrawn, 
Ilersc  came  back  with  Daila.  Gorgo's  rich  blue  dress  Ihat  had  been 
sent  lo  the  young  girl  by  Damia  became  her  admirably,  but  her 
breath  came  tpiic'k,  and  her  curls  were  rather  disarranged,  llerse 
Idievvise  looked  excited,  her  cheeks  glowed,  and  she  drew  little 
Papias,  whom  she  held  by  Ihe  hand,  icgardlessly  along  behind  her. 

Dada  felt  embarrassed,  lesson  account  of  Ihe  costlv  things  that 
surrounded  her,  than  ot  her  foster-mother's  injimcti(ms  to  behave 
coi^teoysly  awd  sedately  in  the  presence  ot  their  entertainers,  aud 


SF.HAPIS.  25 

there  was  something  quite  peculiar  in  her  demeanor,  as,  in  ohedionre 
to  HtTse's  direction,  she  bowed  low  before  the  aged  lady;  but  llie 
bashful  and  yet  graceful  manner  in  which  she  discharged  her  task 
seemed  to  please  Damia  well,  tor,  with  a  graciousness  very  unusual 
with  her,  she  held  out  her  hand,  and  invited  her  to  draw  near,  and 
kissing  lier,  said  kindly: 

"  You  are  a  good  child!  To  be  true  to  one's  iriends  is  precious  in 
the  sight  ot  the  gods,  and  also  brings  its  reward  among  men." 

Then,  fo' lowing  a  lortunate  intuition,  Dada  tlirew  herself  down 
at  the  old  lady's  feet,  kissed  both  her  hands,  and  remained  humbly 
sitting  at  her  feet. 

Gorgo,  whom  Herse's  excitement  had  not  escaped,  asked  what 
had  befallen  her,  and  learned  that  they  had  been  pursued  by  monks 
lu  the  street,  Dada's  lyie  forced  from  the  hands  of  a  slave,  and  tLe 
maiden's  gai laud  torn  off  her  liead.  Damia  trembled  witli  rage  on 
hearing  this  recital,  abusing  tlie  wild  hordes  through  whom  Alex- 
andria, the  favorite  haunt  of  the  ]\Iuses,  was  dishonored  and  pro- 
laned,  and  tben  recurred  to  the  rescue  of  the  minstrel  family  by 
Marcus,  the  son  of  Jlaria. 

"  Marcus,"  said  she,  "  must  be  a  pattern  of  self-restraint.  He 
exercises  Lis  horse  with  those  young  sinners  in  the  hippodrome,  and 
yet— it  were  a  miracle  if  true— and  yet  he  shuns  women  as  if  he 
were  a  saint  already.  His  mother  encourages  him  in  this;  but  he, 
cbarming  Apiirodiie,  he  is  the  son  of  my  handsome  Apelles,  who 
would  have  gazed  into  these  blue  eyes  from  Rome  to  Alexandria 
and  would  have  willingly  allowed  himself  to  be  caught,  but  just  S(.> 
surely  as  1  hope  to  live  to  sec  autumn,  he  would  have  caught  hia 
game  too.  How  red  you  are,  girl  1  The  long  and  short  of  it  is  that 
Marcus  is  just  like  the  rest.  "  Keep  your  eyes  well  open,  Dame 
Herse." 

"  I'll  be  sure  to  do  that,"  cried  the  matron.  "  And  alas!  there's 
need  for  it  too.  The  young  gentleman  was  so  modest  on  the  ship, 
and  now  to  behave  su!  While  we  were  away,  he  crept  like  a  mar- 
ten into  his  own  mother's  house,  and— is  it  not  shameful?— he 
opened  our  room  with  the  keys  that  are  always  at  his  disposal,  and 
invited  the  maiden — she  is  my  own  sister's  child— to  elope  with 
Inin,  to  forsake  us,  and  follow  him,  he  knows  best  wher-eto." 

Here  old  Damia  interrupted  the  indignant  matron,  exclaiminij 
with  a  malicious  smile,  while  she  struck  the  ffoor  with  her  cane: 
"  The  saintly  son  of  my  saintliest  of  sisters-in  law.  fSuch  a  marvel 
one  does  not  live  to  see  every  day !  Come,  come  here,  Dada.  Take 
this  ring,  it  has  been  worn  by  one  who  was  once  young  herself  and 
greatly  courted.     Nearer,  nearer  yet,  my  darling." 

Vi,  itli  eyes  full  of  curiosity  Dada  turned  her  curly  head  toward  the 
old  lady,  who  ilrew  her  closer  to  herself,  and  whispered  into  her  eat 
softly  and  yet  forcibly:  "Turn  that  milksop's  head  lor  me,  make 
him  fall  so  madly  and  foolishly  in  love  with  you  that  he  will  be 
quite  i)eside  himself.  You  can  do  this,  and  1 — no,  I'll  make  no 
promises;  but  if  the  town  talk  reports  that  Maria's  sou,  with  sighs 
and  groans,  knocks  nightly  at  the  blinds  of  pretty  Dada,  "the 
heathen  and  public  singer,  and  if,  in  broad  daylight,  he  drives  you 
out  iu  his  own  carriage,  riding  through  Canopian  Street  past  his 


2G  SERAPIS. 

nintlnT's  lionso,  Ihen,  then,  cliild,  dosiro  of  mc  what  j'ou  will,  and 
old  Daiiii.-i  will  not  slight  your  jictition." 

TIkii  tshc!  lilted  up  licr  head  and  addrcssod  liorself  to  the  rest  of 
tlio  parly.  "  For  the  afternoon,  Iricnds,  repair  to  your  rooms  and 
make  youisolves  comfortable.  Go  with  tiiem,  Dada.  Later  we 
fih.ill  procure  you  pleasant  (piarler.s  in  the  city.  Come  often  to  see 
me,  my  dove,  and  tell  me  l)rcl<y  stories  Wlieu  work  is  not  prostiirt; 
1  shall  always  receive  you,  for  you  and  1  h.ive  a  secret  between  us." 

The  niaiden  arose  and  looked  an.xiously  at  the  old  lady,  who  how- 
over  nodded  pleasantly  at  her,  as  though  they  perfectly  understood 
each  other,  and  again  iield  out  her  hand  to  her,  but  Dada  coidd  not 
kiss  it  this  lime,  and  followed  her  family  more  thoughlluliy  ihan 
usual. 

Gorjio  suspected  what  Damia  was  doing  with  the  girl,  and  as  soon 
as  the  sinjrers  had  left  the  room  she  crew  near  to  her  grandmother, 
and  said  iu  a  tone  ot  mild  repioach:  "  It  will  be  easy  enough  tor 
that  pretty  blonde  to  lead  iMarcus  to  the  committal  of  many  follies; 
it  is  no  concein  of  mine,  for  1  hardly  know  him;  l)ut  why  is  he  to 
expiate  wrongs  done  you  b}'^  his  mothei?     How  can  he  help—" 

"  He  can  help  nothing  at  all,"  said  the  old  lady,  cutting  her 
granddaughter  short  in  her  S|)eech.  "He  can  just  as  little  help 
what  his  mother  has  done  as  you  can,  beinsr  ju8t  twenty  ye;irs  old. 
So  please  hold  your  touaue  until  you  are  asked  to  speaii,"  and  this 
was  said  with  repulsive  sharpness. 

******* 

On  board  of  the  ship  that  lay  at  anchor  in  the  dock  adjoining  the 
grounds  of  Porphyrius,  llie  minstrel  family  found  themselves  re- 
tinited.  Orpheus  had  i)een  a  witness  to  the  disturbances  that  agi- 
tated the  city  irom  one  end  to  the  other,  and  a  fierce  howl,  audible 
in  the  distance,  confirmed  his  statement  in  this  jiarticular;  hut  the 
mirror-like  lake  looked  profoundly  peaceful,  its  blue  being  uncloud- 
ed, and  its  bo.som  calm,  the  slaves  on  the  dock  were  at  \Aoik  as  in 
((uiet  times,  and  turtle-doves  i\ew  cooing  from  palm-tree  to  palm 
tree.  In  the  floating  retreat  of  the  min«tre!s  also  no  sign  of  troublous 
tinies  was  perceptible.  I'he  steward  had  made  provision  for  every 
want.  In  the  roomy  vessel  there  were  chambers  and  beds  in  super- 
fluity, the  spacious  cabin  furnished  a  comfortable  drawing-room, 
and  "from  the  small  kitchen  at  the  rear  of  the  ship  proceeded  an 
aioma  of  roast  meat  and  the  rattling  of  cooking  utensils. 

"  This  is  something  like  living,"  said  Karnis,  as  he  cheerfully 
stretched  himself  at  full  length  upon  a  cushion,  "  and  these  couches 
exactly  tit  our  illustrious  persons.  Sit  down,  little  wife  and  make 
yourself  comfortable!  We  are  distinguished  people  now,  and  to 
sweeten  their  task  to  the  seivants,  we  must  act  as  though  we  did 
not  know  that  there  are  people  in  the  world,  who,  ifiiuatti'tig  aroun.l 
in  a  ring,  sop  their  food  out  of  an  earthen  bowl.  Enjoy,  enjo}'  the 
gifts  of  the  present!  Who  knows  how  long  this  splendor  is  going 
to  last?  All!  wife,  how  it  reminds  one  of  former  days!  Charming 
is  it  indeed  to  lie  of!  so,  at  our  ease,  side  by  side,  and  to  convey  to 
our  mouths  delicacies,  with  the  preparation  ot  M-Jiich  we  have  had 
nought  to  do.  And  you,  old  woman,  who  have  been  so  long  toiling 
and  moiling  for  others,  you  well  deserve,  for  (,nce,  to  have  others 
busy  in  your  service!" 


SEKAPIS.  27 

Snon  small  tables  lojulcil  \Yitli  excellent  viands  were  standing;  be- 
fore each  cowcli,  ami  the  steward  was  inixinir  ftood  Mteiian  wino 
with  pure  water  in  a  beautitul  pitcher.  Orpheus  did  llie  pouriiiu; 
out,  and  Karuis  spiced  the  bountiful  repast  witli  lively  jokes,  and 
cheerful  auecdotcs  from  his  youth,  of  which  he  had  been  reniiiidcd 
by  his  mcetintr  with  his  old  college-male  Olympian. 

Dada  often  joined  in  the  conversation  anil  laughed  louder  and 
more  unrestrainedly  than  usual.  She  was  in  a  fevei,  as  it  were,  and 
llerse  noled  this  well. 

Thai  matron  ilid  not  feel  herself  tree  from  anxiety.  For  the  very 
reason  that  her  husband  always  and  everywhere  went  with  his 
wiiole  ^•oul  into  the  affair  of  the  moment  she  left  him  to  enjoy  him- 
self to  tlie  full,  and,  in  his  stead,  looked  beyond  the  present  oil  mio 
t!ie  future.  Witli  her  own  eyes  she  had  seen  what  was  going  on  in 
Alexiindria,  and  wat  sensible  th:it  they  hud  come  there  id  an  unpro- 
pilious  time.  Ileidhen  and  Christian  stood  arrayed  in  tierce  enmity, 
iho  one  against  tlif  olher,  and  Karnis,  too,  would  be  sure  to  take  up 
the  sword  soon,  now  that  he  had  recognized  in  his  old  student-iriend 
Olympius,  the  leader  of  liis  |)arty.  Did  the  cause  of  Christ  conquer, 
then,  no  |)ity  would  be  shown  those  who  had  openly  ranged  Ihem- 
swlveson  the  side  of  tlie  old  gnds.  Gorgo's  desire  to  have  Agnes 
sing  will)  lur  in  the  temple  of  Isis  filled  lier  with  special  solicilude; 
tor.  if  it  came  to  that,  they  might  easily  be  accused  of  misguiding 
a  Christian  inio  taking  part  in  a  pagan  service  and  be  sentenced  to 
a  severe  punishment.  Yesterday  it  had  all  struck  her  in  a  difTerent 
light,  for  then  she  had  been  thinking  of  tne  genial  old  Alexandria, 
as  it  had  been  known  to  her  in  her  youth.  But  what  an  alteration 
had  not  more  than  thirty  years  made!  Tiie  chui'ch  had  cast  the 
temple  into  shadow,  and  the  monk  the  sacrificial  priest. 

Karnis  and  his  family  were  musicians  of  no  ordinary  stamp,  but 
the  law  against  iemaies  singing  in  public  might  affect  even  them 
perilously,  and  now.  to  make  her  ill-luck  complete,  hei-e  comes  a 
young  Christian,  trying  to  entrap  her  pretty  niece.  To  what  perse- 
culions  might  they  not  be  subjected,  if  Marcus's  infiueutial  motlier 
got  wind  of  her  son's  goinir  astray! 

llerse  liad  long  ago  remarked  what  bewitching  ways  (he  jade  had 
with  men,  old  and  young.  Did  a  suitor  please  her— and  there  never 
lacked  one — slie  could  forget  herself  and  cany  on  a  brisk  tlirtalioii; 
but  just  80  soon  as  she  perceived  that  she  had  gone  too  tar,  and  had 
cause  for  self-reproach,  her  sincere  regret  and  the  fault  she  found 
with  her  own  conduct,  atoned  amply  tor  what  had  gone  before. 
She  would  completely  withdraw  from  him,  and  it  she  could  not 
avoiii  meeting  him,  would  treat  him  with  a  reserve  and  coldness 
amounting  to  incivility.  Herse  had  not  been  sparing  in  her  censure 
and  warnings,  but  Dada  answered  to  her  reproofs,  Ihatslie  could  uol 
alter  lier  nature;  and  irierse  had  never  been  able  long  to  maintain 
the  part  of  a  strict  censor  as  regards  girlish  ways  thai,  after  all,  were 
very  becoming. 

Even  now.ilio  matron  found  it  hard  to  decide  whether  it  were 
more  advisable  to  warn  Dada  against  young  Ma''cus,  and  enjoin  it 
upon  lier  to  i-ejccl  any  new  advance  on  ins  part,  or  to  i)ass  over  what 
hail  happened  in  silence  She  knew  how  the  insignificant  grows  into 
magniiude,  vvhen  stamped  as  important.     Therefore,  she  had  only 


28  SERAPIS, 

liirlilly  questioned  the  maiden,  as  to  what  the  secret  was  between 
t)iil  Daniia  and  herself,  and  appeared  satisfied  with  Da^la's  evasive 
ri'ply;  l)ijl  slie  suspected  the  truth,  neverllicless,  and  was  determined 
not  to  be  lackini;  in  circumspection.  INIcanwhile,  siie  would  let 
lliiims  lake  their  own  course,  and  not  mention  Marcus  asrain;  but 
her  husband  brought  her  project  to  naught,  wiiile  he  called  out  to 
D.ida,  with  all  the  cheerfulness  of  a  hai)py  man  who  has  partaken 
of  a  gootl  meal,  that  she  must  tell  him  all  abuut  that  young  Chris- 
tian's invasion.  8he  objected  a  liitle  at  first,  but  was  soon  carried 
away  by  the  old  man's  good  humor  and  lold  her  story  thus: 

"  There  1  sat  alone  with  the  poor  boy,  like— 1  do  not  knew  ex 
acfly  what— you  can  make  the  comjiarison  to  suit  yourselves.  For 
my  comfort,  the  key  siood  in  its  lock,  but  Idid  not  leel  at  all  at  my 
ease,  for  the  monks  began  to  sing  in  the  court  outside.  If  one  voice 
went  fo  (he  left,  the  other  went  to  the  ri<;ht.  Did  you  ever  see 
drunken  men.  arm  in  arm,  swaying  backward  and  forward,  reeling 
to  and  fro!  Do  not  laugh!  By  all  the  nine  mtises,  it  was  precisely 
so!  Presently  Papiaa  got  very  tired,  and  asked  over  and  over  again, 
where  Agnes  was;  and  at  last  he  got  to  crying.  When  1  asked  him 
why,  he  said  he  di<in't  know,  he  had  forgotten.  Being  patient,  as 
1  alwa^'s  am— you'll  allow  that— 1  did  nothmg  in  the  world  to  him, 
but,  as  nothing  would  do  but  that  a  plaything  he  must  have,  1  drew 
the  key  out  of  the  lock  (for  there  was  nothing  else  there  that  he  might 
not  have  broken),  gave  it  to  the  youngster,  and  bade  him  blow  me  a 
tune  on  it.  That  he  was  willing  enough  to  do,  and  sweetly  enough 
it  sounded.  Meanwhile,  1  had  lain  out  my  burned  robe,  and  w.-is 
shocked  at  the  size  of  the  holes;  but  1  conceived  the  idea  of  turning 
the  cloth,  because  other  spots  are  invisible  when  this  is  done." 

"  You  are  making  up  that  now,"  laughed  Urpheus.  "  We  know 
you.  If  you  can  only  tell  acme  story  of  stupidity  on  your  csvu 
part-" 

"  No,  indeed!"  exclaimed  Dada.  "  Such  an  idea  actually  crossed 
my  brain  just  as  a  swallow  flits  through  a  room;  but  1  was  soon 
made  aware  that  burned  holes  go  through  and  throuKh.  Tlien  I 
threw  iiside  the  garment  as  past  remedy,  and  stood  ui)OU  tiie  loot- 
stool,  in  order  to  peep  through  the  hole  by  the  door,  into  the  court, 
for  the  song  was  at  an  eud,  and  the  stillness  began  to  oppress  me. 
Papias  no  longer  played  his  flute,  but  had  stationed  himself  in  the 
corner,  wiiere  Orpheus  had  been  writing  that  letter  to  Tauromenium." 

"  The  ink  was  there,"  exclaimed  he,  "  that  u^ine  host  lent  us  yes- 
terday." •' 

"Exactly  so,  and  when  mother  came  back  there  sat  Papias, 
dipping  his  finger  into  the  receptacle,  and  spotting  his  while 
gown.  You  can  see  the  pretty  work  he  made  of  it  tor  yourselves. 
But  do  nut  interrupt  me  again.  1  then  looked  out  upon  the 
court.  It  was  empty;  the  monks  had  all  foisaken  it.  Then  ap- 
peared a  slender  young  gentleman,  in  the  doorway,  dressed  in  a 
wiiite  robe  edged  witli  alively  sky-blue  border.  The'old  i)orter  hum- 
bly crept  after  him,  as  far  as  was  allowed  him  by  the  cord  that 
fastens  him  to  the  post;  and  while  our  liost  spoke  with  him,  he 
clax|Hd  both  hands  over  his  breast,  as  lliougli  upon  the  right  side  as 
well  as  lell  he  had  a  truly  devoted  heart.  The  young  man— it  was 
Marcus,  our  benefactor,  of  course— crossed  llu;couit  in  /ig-zng  fash- 


SERAl'lS. 


29 


i  )a,  at  first  just  as  u  suipu  files,  but  tliea  mov^cd  slrai^dit  up  to  our 
door. 

"  Nothing  more  waa  to  be  seen  of  either  porter  or  host.  Do  you 
remember  those  little  Gotlis,  that  their  father  allowed  to  bathe  ia 
tin;  SibL'^  last  wiuter,  when  it  was  so  cold?  At  first  they  went  up 
to  the  river,  and  kt  it  wet  their  toes,  then  they  darted  off,  soon  to 
come  back  air^nn,  and  moisten  forehead  and  breast.  But  they  did 
not  take  the  phni!j:e  into  the  cokl  stream  until  after  their  father  had 
shouted  out  to  llieni  some  barbnrous  word  or  oilier.  1  can  see  tlie 
young  urchins  now.  Marcus  did  just  like  those  boys;  but  suddenly 
he  shot  up  lo  our  door,  an;l  knocked." 

"  He  Ihouijh^  of  your  lovely  lace,"  laughed  Karnis. 

"  Maybe.  1,  though,  did  not  stir,  but  stood  still  as  a  mouse  upon 
mv  8to(il,  and  kept  watcliing  him  through  the  ai)erture,  until  he 
asked  once  and  ag.iin: 

■'  'Is  nobody  in'?' 

"  Then  I  could  hold  in  no  longer,  and  answered; 

"  '  All  are  out!' 

"  I  l)cl rayed  myself,  you  see.  One  can  not  keep  everything  in 
mind.  Well,  laugh  if  you  like.  A  smile,  too,  flitted  across  liisowa 
liandsome  face,  and  then  he  urged  me  to  open  the  door  and  let  him 
in.  for  he  had  something  important  to  talk  with  me  about.  I  said 
that  we  could  communicate  well  enough  through  the  aperture.  Pyr- 
amus  and  Tuisbe  hswl  even  kissed  through  a  slit  in  the  wall.  But 
he  did  not  enter  into  tne  jest;  but  grew  more  and  mor<;  grave  as  he 
rekeraled  his  entreaty,  for  upon  tliis  hour  depended  a  great  deal, 
both  for  himself  and  me,  and  that  which  he  had  to  say  to  me  no- 
boilv  else  must  hear. 

"  The  aperture  was  too  high  up  to  admit  of  whispering,  and  so 
iiotliing  was  leit  for  me  to  do  but  to  demand  the  key  of  Papias.  But 
that  young  one  no  Icnger  knew  anything  of  its  whereabouts. 

"  Altiiough,  when  1  tliought  afterward  lo  ask  him  where  his 
flute  was,  he  brought  it  to  me  directly.  In  short,  tlK'  ke}'  was  gone. 
1  explained  this  to  Marcus,  and  now  he  wrung  his  hands;  bui  this 
was  only  for  a  short  while,  because  the  liost,  wlio  had  been  hid  be- 
liind  a  pillar,  and  must  have  been  listening,  sutldenly  .stood  close  be- 
side the  young  gentleman,  as  though  he  had  diopiieii  Iroui  the 
skies,  loosened  a  key  from  his  girdle,  opened  the  door  wide,  antl  had 
vanished  a<rain  as  though  the  ground  had  swallowed  him  up. 

"  Now  Marcus  and  I  stood  face  to  face,  ile  was  disconcerted,  as 
it  were.  1  verily  believe  the  poor  fellow  was  trembling,  antt  1  was 
not  as  composed  as  I  might  have  been:  yet  1  managed  to  bring  out 
a  wi-h  to  know  what  he  wanted.  Then  he  collected  himself  and 
said: 

"  '  1  would  like—' 

"  '  You  would  like—'  said  I,  (!ncouragingly. 

"  And  so  most  likel}'  it  would  liave  gone  on  to:  '  He  would  like,' 
'  we  wou.d  like,'  as  in  our  school-room  at  Rome,  when  the  teacher 
would  be  drilling  the  boys  in  their  Greek  grammar  lesson,  liad  not 
Papias  come  lo  his  aid,  for  he  ran  up  lo  him,  and  got  lossjd  hiirh 
lip  in  the  air,  as  had  l)een  liis  wont  upon  sliipI)oard.  l\T\u-eus  grali- 
fied  the  boy,  and  then  suddenly  ovorwh(!lined  me  with  a  How  of  talk 
that  quite  alarmed  me.     At  first  he  said  so  many  handsome  thing* 


30  SERA  PIS. 

tli:i(  1  llioiii;bt  '  now  comes  adeclaration  of  love,'  ;in<l  was  already  ic- 
Ik-cliiiu;  as  to  wliutlier  1  should  laiiu;li  at  liiiu  or  fall  n\nm  liis  n'lck. 
lor  li(!  is  a  dear,  haudsome  yonug  niau;  ami,  it  y(u  must,  know  ii,  l 
would  have  been  iireatly  inclined  to  grant  liini  a  favur.  Hut  lit  a^k  d 
nolliing,  and  troin  me— attend,  Father  Karnis  — from  nje,  whom  our 
TTfavenly  Parent  has  crowned  wi;li  his  fairest  gifts,  he  passed  ovt-r 
to  you,  you  old,  bad,  hardened,  good-for-nothing  jiaaau  " 

"  1  am,  am  1?"  cried  the  singer,  playfully  shaking  his  fist  at  her. 

"  Listen  again,"  continued  Dada.  "  lie  paid  many  compliments 
both  to  you  and  t'le  mother;  but  do  you  know  what  charges  lie 
brought  against  you?  You  are  imperiling  my  soul,  my  ininiorlal 
fii>iil.  As  it  vou  had  ever  spoken  to  me  of  any  other  Psyche  than 
(he  be'oved  of — " 

"  Tliat  isadiQerent  thing,"  observed  Karnis,  more  .seriously.  "  In 
many  a  si)ng  have  1  exhorted  you  to  plume  your  soul  for  a  higher 
fiigld.  You  have  learned  to  sing,  and  for  the  soul  of  woman  there 
is  no  bettec  Sfhool  than  music  and  song.  If  that  malapert— lie 
might  be  my  graud.'sou— comes  to  j'ou  again  with  such  lollies,  Iheu 
let  lum  be  told  Uon\  me—" 

"  Let,  him  ])c  UAd  nothing  from  you!"  exclaimed  Ilerse,  "  for  we 
have  nothing  to  lio  with  Christians,  and  never  shall  have.  You  are 
my  own  dear  sister's  child,  and  1  desire,  do  you  hear?  I  command, 
that  you  show  him  the  door  it  he  ever  tries  tocouie  near  you  ncain!" 

"  'i'Vho  is  to  find  us  out  here?"  ask^d  Dada.  "  And  u-hat  you  ini 
pule  to  him  is  not  his  design.  Ills  concern  is  for  what  he  calls  my 
soul,  not  for  myself,  and  he  wanted  to  take  me.  not  to  his  own 
house,  but  to  that  of  someone  else,  who  should  be  a  physician  for 
my  soul.  1  love  to  laugh,  but  what  he  brought  forward  was  all  so 
solemnly  and  impressively  put,  that  1  could  not  find  it  in  my  heart 
to  iest.  At  least,  1  grew  angrier  than  lever  was  in  all  my  life  before, 
ami  that  threw  him  into  a  pa.ssion,  until  he  was  quite  beside  him- 
self. You  came  in  yourself,  m(>ther,  and  beheld  the  dignified  gen- 
tleman on  his  knees  before  me,  beseeching  me  to  leave  you  " 

"  And,  thereupon,  I  mean  to  give  liim  a  piece  of  my  mind,"  put 
in  Ilerse,  with  gruff  self-satisfaction.  "  I'll  let  him  know  just  what 
1  think  of  him.  lie  talks  a\)oul  the  soul,  and  what  iie  wants  is  the 
maiden  herself.  1  know  my  Christian,  and  predict  what  is  to  come. 
In  order  to  carry  his  point,  he  will  have  recourse  to  law;  you  know 
now,  and  then  you  will  be  parted  Ironi  us,  and  stuck  into  one  of 
those  religious  establishments— convents,  they  call  them — Ihosf  dis- 
mal dungeons— and  there  you  wi'l  get  to  learn  moie  about  your  soul 
than  you  will  care  to.  No  moie  laughing,  singing,  and  metriment. 
That  is  the  way  it  will  be;  and  if  you  are  wise,  you  will  keep  your- 
self concealed  from  him,  until  we  leave  Alexandria,  and  that  wi  1 
be  soon,  if  you  listen  to  reason,  Karnis." 

Tiiese  words  had  so  earnest  and  convincing  a  sound,  that  Dada 
unconsciously  closed  her  eyes,  and  Karnis  thoughtfully  arose  from 
his  couch. 

Hut  no  time  was  left  him  for  further  medilitiou.  because  llii! 
steward  i.jjpeared  and  summoned  him,  his  son,  and  Agnes,  to 
Gorgo,  in  order  to  study  with  her  "  The  Lament  of  Isis."  The  in- 
vitation was  not  extended  to  Ilerse  and  Dada,  so  they  too  stayeil  oe- 
hind  in  the  ship. 


RERAPIS.  31 

Tin  nifitroii  hnd  plenty  to  do  in  tlie  lower  rooms,  so  Dada  re- 
paired to  liie  deck  uud  looked  after  the  olliers.  Then  sl)e  watched 
the  ship's  crew  at  their  work,  and  set  the  childieu  at  phiy  on  the 
shore  to  catching  fruits  and  sugar  plums,  the  remains  of  her 
dessert.  In  so  doiu",  she  thought  ot  Marcus'  strange  conversation, 
of  what  old  Damia  iiad  asked  of  her,  and  ot  Herse's  warning.  In 
the  beginning,  this  last  seemed  to  her  well  founded,  but  soon  her 
old  confidence  returned,  and  sue  could  not  believe  that  the  young 
Cliristiiin  had  anj  evil  designs  agamst  her.  ]\Ioreover,  she  was  as 
firmly  convinced  that  he  would  find  her  out  in  that  hiuing-place, 
as  she  was  that  in  truth  he  hankered  sitter  the  possession  of  her 
much  admired  person,  rather  than  after  her  soul— for  how  could 
that  airy  nothing  benefit  a  lover?  With  what  warmth  had  he  de- 
picted her  grace,  how  freely  had  he  acknowledged  that  her  image 
wa!>  with  him  day  and  night,  visiting  him  even  in  his  dreams,  that 
he  could  not  get  her  out  of  his  mind,  and  was  ready  to  devote  his 
life  to  the  safvation  of  her  soul!  Only  a  lover  could  talk  in  tliat 
wiiy.  and  from  such  an  one  much,  yea,  everylhing  could  be  ob- 
tained. On  her  way  from  the  inn  to  the  house  of  Porphyrins,  she 
had  seen  him  in  his  chariot,  and  iiloried  in  his  magnificent  horses, 
tiial  he  drove  so  gracefully  and  wiih  such  a  steady  hand.  He  was 
hardly  three  years  older  than  herself— slie  was  only  eighteen— but 
in  spile  ot  his  youth  and  bashfuluess,  he  could  not  be  called  unmanly, 
anil  besides,  there  was  an  especial  something  about  him  that  at- 
tracted her,  and  inspired  her  with  confidence,  so  that  she  could 
l)nt  think  constantly  of  him  and  ask  herself,  "Why  soV"  OI<i 
Damia's  demand  disquieted  her,  and  without  this  it  would  have 
seemed  far  more  fascinating  to  know  herself  loved  by  him,  and  to 
be  driven  1)^'  his  hand  through  Canopian  Street. 

It  seemed  to  her  quite  impossible  that  all  should  be  over  between 
him  and  herself,  and  while  her  thoughts  continued  to  dwell  upon 
liim,  and  at  the  same  time  she  cast  an  occasional  glance  upon  the 
workmen  who  were  carpentering  near,  a  boat  put  into  shore  close 
to  her  ship,  and  from  it  leaped  ashore  a  captain  ot  the  imperial 
horse. 

A  handsome  man  he  was!  How  finely  cut  and  regular  were  the 
features  of  his  embrowned  visatie,  how  lightly  curled  his  coal-black 
beard,  and  the  locks  that  escaped  from  the  confinement  of  a  golden 
helmet.  The  dagger-like  sword  at  his  side  was  that  of  a  tribune  or 
a  prefect  of  cavalry,  and  what  deeds  of  valor  muRt  not  have  been 
achieved  by  this  wariior  in  glittering  panoply  ot  armor,  since  he 
was  not  of  patrician  race,  to  secure  him,  at  his  early  age,  so  high  a 
post.  Ndw,  he  stood  on  the  shore,  and  looked  around.  His  glance 
met  hers,  and  she  filt  that  she  blushed;  he,  however,  seemed  sur- 
prised at  sight  ot  her,  greeted  her  reverentially,  in  soldierly  fashion, 
and  then  stepped  up  to  the  groat  ship's  hulk,  to  the  boldly  curved 
bare  ribs  of  which  some  master  workmen  were  applying  measuring 
rods  and  lines. 

Here  stood  an  old  man  ot  dignifiel  presence,  in  whom  she  had 
recognized  earlier  the  superintendent  of  the  dock.  Up  to  him  the 
warrior  hurried.  8he  heard  him  call  out  "father,"  and  directly 
afterward  saw  the  arms  ot  the  giaybeard  open  to  inclose  the  offlcer 
in  u  lervtnt  embrace. 


32  SKRAPTS. 

Dada  gn zed  fixedly  wpon  (lie  pair,  until,  arm  in  nrm,  and  evidently 
excUanginii  loviui;  f^rcelins^s,  she  bad  Boea  them  vanish  inside  a  laii^c 
liouse  on  the  extreme  verge  ot  the  doclc. 

"  A.  handsome  man!"  repeated  Dada,  and  while  she  awaited  his 
return,  she  nevertheless  kept  her  eye  fixed  upon  the  road  Dial; 
miffht  lead  Marcus  to  her.  At  Rome  she  had  seen  many  splendid- 
looking  soldiers,  and  the  sliip  builder's  son,  after  all,  had  little  the 
advantage  of  these;  but  such  a  young  man  as  Marcus,  she  had  never 
yet  met,  and  tiiere  was  hardly  his  like  anywhere.  Tlie  bold  c-av 
alryman  was  a  fine  tree  among  other  grand  oak?,  but  Marcus  had 
something  quite  peculiar  to  himself;  and  asslieauain  rcllecled  upon 
what  thus  distinguished  him  above  others,  and  made  him  so 
especially  lovable,  his  image  presented  itself  so  vividly  before  her 
mind's  eye,  that  In  its  consideration  she  forgot  the  tine  officer,  the 
ship-buiider,  and  everything  else  besides. 


CIIAPTLR  V. 

Kaknts  and  his  two  companions  stayed  away  a  long  while. 
Dada's  amusement  of  watching  lor  the  icappearance  of  tlie  cavalry 
officer  was  but  of  shoit  duiation,  and  so,  after  she  had  played  a 
long  time  with  little  Papiau,  as  with  a  pet  dog.  she  began'to  grow 
weary,  and  find  the  sliip  insufferably  dull.  When  at  last  sunset 
was  at  hand,  and  the  otliers  had  come  back,  she  reminded  Karnis 
of  his  j)romise  to  walk  about  some  with  her  in  Alexandria,  but 
Tlerse  bade  her  be  patient  and  wait  till  the  next  day.  Hereupon 
Daila,  who  had  been  decidedly  more  irritable  and  excitable  tlian 
usual,  burst  into  tears,  and  cast  thedistafi  handed  her  to  her  foster- 
mother  into  the  lake,  declaring  with  sobs,  tliat  she  was  no  slave, 
and  would  run  awaj^  to  look  for  enjoyment  where  it  might  l)e 
found.  It  ende(t  by  her  behaving  so  improperly  that  finally  Ilcrse 
lost  patience,  and  reproved  her  warmly.  Then  Dada  jumped  up, 
threw^  a  mantle  around  her  shoulders,  and  was  upon  the  point  of 
crossing  the  gangway,  and  going  ashore;  but  Karnis  succeeded  in 
detaining  her,  and  after  lie  had  caught  her  car,  saying,  "  Child, 
child,  do  you  not  see  how  tired  1  am?'  she  forthwith  heard  reason 
and  tried  to  compose  herself;  but  the  traces  of  distress  were  too  evi- 
dent, and  upon  her  retiring  into  a  corner,  to  iveep  quietly  all  to 
herself,  the  old  man's  heart  was  touched,  and  he  felt  disposed  to 
s]^eak  s  otliingly  to  her  and  stroke  iier  hair,  but  he  restrained  him- 
self, whispered  a  tew  words  to  liis  wife,  and  tnen  declaieJ  himself 
ready  to  guide  Dada  through  Canopian  Street  to  Bruchimn. 

Now  the  maiden  brightened  up.  dried  her  eyes,  thretv  her  arms 
around  the  singer's  neck,  kissed  liis  rougli  cheek,  and  cried: 

"  You  are  the  best  man  in  all  the  world!  Make  haste,  ami  let's 
take  Agnes;  she  siiall  see  something  loo!" 

But  the  young  Christian  preferied  to  remain,  and  so  Karnis  set 
off  alone  w'ith  Dada.  Oiplieus  followed  them,  for  although  the 
troops  had  succeeded  in  quelling  the  tumult,  tlie  city  Wiis  still  iu 
anything  but  ii  quiet  state. 

Veileil,  anil  without  anything  conspicuous  in  her  dress — Ilerse 
had  seen  to  this — the  maiden  tiavcrsed  the  streets,  leaning  on  the  old 


SERAPIS.  33 

man's  arm,  and  c;ettin,2:  him  to  explain  to  her  everything  they  saw. 
Tlm3  engaged,  the  girl's  good  humor  returned  socouipleiely,  and  her 
ideas  were  "so  bright  and  original,  tUat  Karnis  soon  torgothis  weari- 
ness, aud  gave  himselt  up  to  the  enjoyment  of  pointing  out  many 
rcmarliable  things  that  were  familiar  to  him,  but  entirely  novel  to 
her. 

When  they  reached  Canopian  Street,  Dada  was  beside  herself 
with  pleasure.  There  rose  up  one  palatial  residence  after  another. 
Covered  colonnades  ran  along  parallel  with  these  rows  of  houses,  a 
broad  walk  shaded  by  sycamore  trees  divided  the  thoroughfare  into 
two  parts,  aud  on  each  side  of  tliis  beautiful  avenue  that  was 
thronged  with  people,  handsome  equipages  rolled  to  and  fro,  horse- 
back riders  took  their  exercise,  and,  in  short,  something  striking  or 
new  was  to  be  seen  at  every  step. 

A  more  magnificent  street  Rome  itself  could  not  boast  of,  and 
Dada  gave  loud  expression  to  her  admiration,  but  Karnis  did  not 
join  her  in  this;  for  it  infuriated  him  to  observe  that  the  Christians 
had  removed  the  fountain  in  the  middle  of  the  walk,  a  venerable 
image  of  Father  Kile,  with  frolicsome  children,  represented  as  clam- 
bering over  his  kuees,  an:I  they  had  also  partly  thrown  down,  partly 
mutilated,  the  statues  of  Mercury  lining  the  drives.  Oipheus shared 
his  indignation,  and  this  reached  its  climax,  when,  on  the  pedestals 
on  both  sides  of  the  lofty  front:  door  of  a  particularly  stately  man- 
sion, instead  of  the  Ceres  and  fallas  Athene  of  Ant.ipliilus,  that  had 
been  the  finest  ornaments  of  the  street,  and  been  mentioned  to  his 
son  by  the  old  man,  there  stood  iwo  roughly-hewn  lambs,  with 
heavy  crosses  on  their  backs. 

"  Like  rats  that  somebody  has  caught  in  a  trap!"  exclaimed  the 
old  man,  "  A.nd  the  worse  part  of  it,  is,  I  would  lay  wager,  that  those 
noble  adornments  of  the  city  have  been  broken  to  pieces  and  thrown 
out  among  the  rubbish.  In  my  time,  this  house  belonged  to  the 
wealthy  Philippus.  Hold!  1  wonder  if  he  was  not  the  father  of 
him  whose  hospitality  we  are  now  enjoying,  for  he—" 

"  1  heard  the  steward  call  Porphyrins  the  son  of  Philippus,"  re- 
maiked  Orpheus.  "  And  Philippus,  like  Porphyrins,  dealt  in 
grain,"  added  Kainis. 

The  Ceres  was  to  indicate  that  this  house  owed  its  wealth  to  the 
blessinss  of  harvest,  and  the  Pallas  Athene  pointed  to  the  cultivation 
of  science  by  its  owner.  When  1  studied  here  every  rich  man  be- 
longed to  some  school  of  philosophy.  Wealth  did  not  stand  for 
everything.  Heathen  or  Jew,  merchant  or  only  the  inheritor  ot 
ancestral  property,  a  man  must  know  how  to  converse  on  something 
else  than  the  price  of  goods  and  the  incoming  or  outgoing  vessel. 

During  this  conversation,  Dada  had  let  go  her  companion's  arm, 
and  lifted  up  her  veil  with  one  hand,  tor  two  men  had  passed  be- 
tween the  lambs,  that  had  so  aroused  Karnis'  wrath,  and  tlie  one  of 
them,  who  let  drop  the  knocker  upon  the  front  door,  was  the  son  of 
Maria, 

"  See,  father,  there  he  is!"  called  out  Dada,  while  the  door  was 
being  opened,  in  a  tone  far  louder  than  was  needful,  in  order  to  be 
heard  by  his  escort;  and  then  the  singer,  too,  recognizing  Marcus, 
turned  to  his  son  and  said: 

"Now  we  have  it  all  clear.  Porphyrins  and  the  father  ol  the 
3 


34  SERAPI3. 

young  Clirislian  are  brothers.  Philippus  lef  I  Iiis  house  on  Canopian 
blreel  to  the  latter — he  probably  beiiisi;  the  elder  ot  the  brothers — 
and  now  it  lieloiigs  to  his  widow,  Mari;t,  the  presiding  j^euius  of  our 
inn.  Una  thinir  must  be  allowed  you,  child,  you  have  chosen  your 
lover  from  a  trood  family." 

"  I  mean  to  do  that,"  laughed  the  maiden.  "  But  for  that  rea- 
son they  are  proud,  tool  1>iot  a  glance  has  the  gentleman  to  spare 
for  us.  Clap,  clap!  the  door  has  already  closed!  Let  us  move  on, 
uncle." 

After  the  young  Christian  had  entered  the  front  hall  of  his  ances- 
tral home,  together  with  his  companion,  he  stood  siill,  and  said,  in 
a  tone  of  urgent  entreaty,  "  Just  come  with  me  to  mother;  you 
must  not  part  so." 

"  How  else,  then?"  asked  the  other  roughly.  "  She  insists  upon 
her  own  way,  1  on  mine.  You  had  better  look  out  forthwith  for  a 
more  suitable  manager.  To-morrow  morning  early  1  shall  be  oflt. 
Let  the  earth  swallow  me  if  1  stay  among  these  men  turned  madmen 
an  hour  longer  than  is  necessary.  For  the  rest,  Maiia  is  i/our  moth- 
er, not  mine." 

"But,  nevertheless,  she  has  been  your  father's  wife,"  retorted 
Marcus. 

"Very  true,"  replied  the  other.  "  And  on  that  account  1  call 
you  ray  brother.  But  as  for  her — any  kindness  that  she  has  shown 
me  1  have  repaid  by  a  ten-years'  teim  of  service.  We  do  not  under- 
stand one  another,  and  never  shall." 

"  Yet— and  yet  1  was  in  the  church,  and  have— do  not  laugh— 
and  have  prayed  to  the  Saviour  to  compose  your  diflerences,  and 
He^-     lou  have  been  baptized,  remember,  and  belong  to  Ills  fold." 

"  To  my  misfortune.  You  make  me  wild  with  all  this  sweet 
gentleness!"  passionately  exclaimed  the  other.  "  1  stand  upon  my 
owu  strong  legs;  and  this  toil-hardened  hand  carries  out  the  pur- 
poses devised  by  the  brain." 

"  No,  dear  Demetrius,  no!  You  believe  in  the  old  gods,  there's 
the  trouble." 

"Actually,"  said  the  other,  with  growing  impatience.  "You 
speak  against  the  wind;  and  my  time  is  limited.  1  am  busy  pack- 
ing my  things  now,  and,  for  your  sake,  will  not  ask  for  my  dis- 
missal, when  1  come  presently  io  render  up  to  your  mother  my  book 
of  accounts.  At  AisinoG  1  liave  land  enough  for  my  purposes  m 
my  own  right.  1  am  tired  of  being  dictated  to  by  a  woman  about 
aflairs  in  my  own  province,  that  1  know  perfectly  how  to  manage. 
I'll  see  you  again  presently,  little  Marcus.  Oidy  announce  my  com- 
ing: in  exactly  an  hour  I'll  call  on  your  mother." 

"  Demetrius!"  called  the  young  ninn,  once  more  trying  to  detain 
liis  brother;  but  he  broke  away  from  him  with  a  violent  exertion  of 
strength,  and  walked  rapidly  through  an  open  court,  richly  adorned 
with  flowers,  in  the  midst  of  which  splashed  a  playing  fountain. 
On  all  sides  of  it  were  rows  of  chambers,  and  one  of  these  belonged 
to  Demetrius. 

Marcus  followed  his  brother  with  a  long,  melancholy  look.  The 
two  thought  and  felt  too  difTereully  for  their  intercourse  to  be  per- 
feftly  harmonious;  an<l  a  casual  observer  woubl  never  have  taken 
them  tor  the  sons  ot  one  fatlier,  so  exactly  was  one  the  opposite 


SEliAPIS.  35 

of  the  other,     Marcus  was  slender  and  delicate;  Demetrius,  on  the 
contrary,  broad-shouldered,  and  rawboned. 

After  Marcus  had  parted  from  his  brother,  he  repaired  to  the  spa- 
cious woman's  apartment,  where  INlaria  was  accustomed  to  stay  at 
this  hour,  atter  she  had  finished  her  superintendence  of  the  female 
slaves,  weaving  in  the  work-room,  at  the  rear  of  this. 

He  found  the  widow  in  lively  conversation  with  a  very  aged 
pr'est,  of  mild,  dignified  aspect,  i^he  had  crossed  the  line  of  the 
forties,  but  would  li.ive  passed  yet  tor  a  beautiful  woman.  It  was 
from  her  that  the  sou  had  gotten  his  slender,  spare  frame,  and  nar- 
row shoulders;  from  her  the  slightly  stooping  gait,  his  delicacy  of 
feature,  fairness  of  complexion,  and  soft,  wavy,  coal-black  hair. 
The  resemblance  betweeu  the  two  was  made  more  striking  t)y  the 
slender  gold  band  that  encircled  the  head  of  each;  yes,  a  rare  freak 
of  nature  would  have  been  manifested  here  if  the  black  eyes  of  the 
mother  had  not  differed  so  totally  from  those  of  her  son— for  her 
glance  was  keen,  sharp,  and  at  times  not  without  masculine  hard- 
ness, while  the  dreamy'luster  emitted  by  Marcus'  blue  eye,  lent  to 
his  countenance  an  almost  feminine  charm. 

Her  discussion  with  the  old  gentleman  opposite  her  must  have 
involved  iiaportant  matters,  for  her  cheeks  hadfiushed  slightly  upon 
the  young  man's  first  appearance,  and  her  delicate,  taper  finger 
tapped  lightly  and  quickly  on  the  arm  of  the  sofa  upon  which  she 
was  resting. 

Marcus  first  saluted  the  priest,  then  kissed  her  hand,  and  after  in- 
quiring for  her  health  with  filial  solicitude,  informed  her  that 
Demetrius  was  coming,  after  a  while,  to  take  leave  of  her. 

"How  gracious!"  said  she,  coolly.  "You  know,  rRverend 
father,  what  I  desire,  and  what  he  refuses  to  accede  to.  The  peas- 
ants, perpetually  the  peasants!  Can  you  explain  to  me  why  pre- 
cisely they,  who  depend  far  more  immediately  than  we  townspeople 
upon  the  providence  of  God,  why  they,  whose  weal  and  woe  lie  so 
visibly  and  sensibly  in  tlie  hands  of  the  Most  High,  should  be  the 
very  ones  to  harden  themselves  so  obstinately  against  the  message 
of  salvation?" 

"  They  cling  to  old  customs,"  answered  the  venerable  old  man. 
"  Their  seed  has  brought  forth  harvests  under  the  old  gods;  and  be- 
cause they  have  to  expect  no  more  than  the  tenth  or  twentieth  part 
of  tlie  grain  from  our  Father  in  heaven,  whom  they  can  not  see  and 
touch,  lilve  their  idols — " 

"  It  is  forever  nothing  but  '  mine  and  thine. '  Miserable  cupidity!" 
interposed  the  widow,  sighing.  "  Demetrius  will  know  well  enough 
how  to  defend  the  idolatry  of  his  favorites.  Have  you  time,  father, 
to  stay,  and  help  me  to  refute  his  arguments?" 

"1  am  already  staying  too  long,"  replied  the  priest,  "  for  the 
bishop  requires  my  presence.  1  should  like  to  converse  with  you, 
dear  Marcus.  Call  at  my  house  to-morrow  morning,  early.  The 
Lord  be  with  you,  dear  children!" 

The  priest  arose;  and  when  Maria  held  out  her  hand  to  him  to  say 
good-by,  she  signed  to  her  son  that  he  should  withdratv  to  a  little 
distance,  and  said,  in  a  low  voice:  "  Marcus  is  not  to  suspect  that  1 
am  aware  of  his  dereliction  from  the  right  path.  Speak  directly  to 
his  conscience  to-morrow  morning.    What  measures  are  to  be  taken 


36  SERAPIS. 

with  tlie  girl  I'll  ablencl  to  myself.     Will  not  Thcopliilus  by  any 
possibility  he  able  to  spare  me  an  hour?" 

"  Hardly  now,"  replied  the  irray-haired  old  man.  "  Yon  know 
that  Cyiiegius  is  here,  and  how  much  depends  on  these  days,  both 
for  the  bishop  and  our  cause.  Give  up  tliat  wish,  I  Ijeseech  you, 
daughter,  tor,  even  it  Theophilus  receives  you,  1  believe  and— do 
not  he  angry  with  me— 1  must  hope,  too,  that  he  never  yields  to  you 
in  this  atiair." 

"  No?"  asked  the  widow,  casting  her  eyes  down  with  a  troubled 
look;  but  no  sooner  had  the  reverend  gentleman  withdrawn  than 
she  lifted  them,  with  defiance  flashing  from  their  glance.  Then  she 
let  her  son — he  had  already  talked  with  lier,  for  hours  yesterday, 
about  his  journey  to  Rome — entertain  her  with  what  Demetrius  had 
said,  how  he  had  found  his  horse,  whether  he  could  hope  for  vic- 
tory at  the  next  race,  and  whatever  else  he  had  been  doinir  during 
the  day.  Meanwhile,  it  did  not  escape  her  that  Marcus  was  less 
free  of  speech  than  usual,  and  tried  again  and  again  to  lead  the  con- 
versation up  to  his  journey  and  the  inn  at  A.le.\andria;  but  she 
always  evaded  the  subject,  tor  she  knew  at  what  he  was  driving, 
and  would  not  listen  to  him  to-day. 

Slaves  had  long  since  placed  silver  candelabra,  lighted,  in  the 
room,  ere  Demetrius  finally  made  his  appearance. 

His  step-mother  received  him  with  friendly  mien,  and  asked  him 
after  indillerent  matters.  lie  gave  her  information  with  ill-concealed 
impatience,  toi  he  had  not  come  to  chat  with  her.  She  felt  that 
plainly;  but  it  pleased  her  to  detain  him,  ami  she  did  so  in  a  man- 
ner that  reminded  him  ot  his  boyish  years,  and  the  many  petty  trials 
which  had  poisoned  his  young  life,  when  this  woman  had  stepped 
into  the  place  of  his  o\vn  genuinely  good  and  tender  mother,  stand- 
ing between  himself  and  his  father. 

Just  as  to-day,  so  she  had  met  him  in  those  times;  with  kindly 
sounding  words,  but  a  heart  cold  and  void  of  love.  He  knew  that 
she  had  put  an  evil  interpretation  upon  each  of  his  boyish  errois 
and  lilile  misdemeanors,  and  referred  them  to  bad  qualities  and  the 
evil  propensities  of  his  nature;  that  she  had  persistently  misrepre- 
sented his  character  to  her  husband,  and  this  crime  he  could  not 
forgive.  At  the  time  when  his  father,  Apelles,  was  murdered,  he 
liad  already  outgrown  the  da3"s  of  boyhood;  and  as  the  elder  son 
ot  the  house,  it  should  have  been  his  to  share  the  management  of 
the  business  with  his  Uncle  Porphyrins;  but  the  thought  of  living 
in  the  same  place  with  his  step-motlier  had  ajipeared  intolerable  to 
him,  and  so,  especially  as  he  had  always  been  toud  ot  country  life, 
he  left  to  Maria  the  house  on  Canopian  Street,  persuaded  his  uncle 
to  wind  up  the  business  ot  Lis  deceased  brother,  and  turn  it  into 
cash,  while  he  himself  left  Alexandria,  to  UDdertake  the  administro- 
tion  ot  their  vast  estate  in  Syrenaica. 

In  a  few  years  he  had  attained  the  position  of  a  distimrMished 
landed  proprietor.  Agriculturists  throughout  the  whole  province 
gladly  consult eil  him,  and  profited  by  liis  example,  and  the  account 
book  that  he  spread  out,  this  evening,  for  Maria's  inspection — three 
immense  rolls— proved  b}'  the  unanswerable  lestimcmy  of  figures, 
tiiat  he  liad  known  how  to  double  the  returns  ot  those  great  estates. 
He  had  a  good  right  to  claim  for  himself    independence  of  action. 


SERAPIS.  37 

and  miirtit  reasonably  insist  upon  Imvincj  his  own  way,  for  he  was 
upheld  by  the  j^roud  feeling  of  the  independent  man,  who  retcard- 
lessly  breaks  the  bond  of  irksome  relations,  because  he  possesses  tlie 
means  of  either  resting  at  his  ease,  or  dedicating  his  strength  to  new 
undertakings. 

Alter  Demetrius  had  stood  long  enough  his  step-mother's  un- 
edifying  talk,  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  book  of  accounts,  and  re- 
marked, without  circundocution,  that  it  was  time  now  to  talk  of 
serious  matters.  He  had  already  explained  to  Marcus,  that  he 
deemed  her  demand  impracticable.  He  was  no  loiterer,  and  wished 
to  come  to  a  conclusion  at  this  very  time,  whether  he  should  con 
tiuue  to  do  the  best  he  couUi  for  their  landed  property,  or  confine 
himself  to  the  management  of  his  own  lands.  It  Maria  insisted  upon 
the  last  requisition  he  would  immediately  give  back  to  her  his 
crideutials,  yet  would  hold  himself  ready  to" return  to  ISyieoaica, 
with  the  new  superintendent,  whom  she  must  get  soon,  and  induct 
him  into  the  dilficult  relations  existing  there;  but  afterward  he 
would  have  nothina:  whatever  to  do  with  the  family  property.  7 his 
w;is  his  last  word,  viz  :  that  when  they  had  made  their  decision,  be 
it  one  way  or  the  other,  they  should  part  without  any  life-long 
breach,  for  this  he  did  not  wish,  on  Marcus'  account. 

Demetrius  had  spoken  seriously  yet  without  passion,  but  his  dis- 
course smacked  so  much  of  the  bitterness  thai  animated  him,  that 
it  could  not  escape  the  widow,  and  so,  in  her  reply,  she  emphasized 
the  fact,  that  it  would  pain  her,  if  he  attributed  her  desire  to  mo- 
lives  having  any  personal  reference  to  himself.  She  had  a  great 
deal  to  thank  him  for,  and  acknowledged  her  obligations  with  pleas- 
ure. He  knew  that  the  estates  on  which  he  administered  were 
bought  partly  with  her  dowry,  and  partly  with  money  belonging  to 
her  husbimd,  and  so  belonged  to  herself,  equally  with  her  children, 
himself  and  Marcus.  Plowever,  her  husband's  will  had  given  her 
the  unlimited  disposal  of  the  same.  She  had  striven  to  prove  her- 
self worthy  of  tlie  confidence  reposed  in  her  by  the  deceased,  when 
siie  had  intrusted  the  management  of  her  proDerty  to  him  while 
still  so  young.  The  rents  had  increased  under  his  control,  and  she 
verily  believed  that,  in  the  future,  he  would  know  how  to  attain 
yet  more  brilliant  results;  but  the  ill-doings  that  were  rife  on  those 
lands  were  unbearable,  and  must  be  regulated,  although  it  should 
lessen  the  returns  by  a  half. 

"  1  am  a  Clu-istian!"  she  exclaimed,  "  and  am  one  with  my  whole 
soul.  Soul  and  body  have  1  dedicated  to  my  Saviour.  What  should 
profit  me  all  the  treasures  of  the  world,  if  1  should  receive  hurt  to 
my  soul!  and  hurt  it  must  be  if  1  allow  my  pockets  to  be  tilled  by 
these  heatiienish  peasants  and  slaves.  1  am  inflexibly  resolved  that 
our  slaves  in  Syrenaica— and  they  constitute  a  flock  of  more  than 
tliree  thousand" wretched  sheep— that  our  slaves  shall  either  submit 
to  baptism  or  be  exchanged  for  Christians." 

"  That  were  to  say—"  passionately  exclaimed  Demetrius. 
"1  am  not  done  yet,'' interposed  she.  "As  for  the  peasants 
who  occupy  our  land  as  tenants,  they  all — you  acknowledged  it  yes- 
terdaj' — cleave  ol)stinateIy  to  idolatry.  We  will  allow  them  time 
for  reflection,  and  then  the  annual  contract  shall  be  renewed  only 
with  those  who  pledge  themselves  lo  give  up  the  old  sacrifices  and 


38  SERAPIS. 

acknowledge  our  Lord.  If  tliey  submit,  it  will  be  for  their  welfare 
here,  and  hereatter:  if  the}'  refuse,  give  thorn  warning  to  quit,  and 
next  j'ear  p\it  Christian  tenants  in  their  place." 

"As  1  exchange  this  chair  for  anotlier,"  laughed  Demetrius, 
picking  up  a  scat  of  heav,y  bronze,  and  dashing  it  upon  the  hard 
mosaic  floor,  so  that  tlie  din  was  most  startling.  " 

Maria  started,  and  then  continiied  in  stronger  excitement:  "My 
bod3'^  may  tremble,  but  my  soul  stands  Arm,  where  their  eternal  wel- 
fare is  at  stake.  I  desire— and  to  this  desire,  wlioever  is  my  repre- 
sentative must  accede,  be  it  you  or  some  one  else — 1  require  that  all 
heathen  temples,  every  image  of  rural  or  horticultural  deities,  every 
altar  for  sacrifices,  and  every  sacred  stone,  by  means  of  which  the 
peasants  carry  on  their  idolatries,  be  torn  awaj',  overturned,  or  cast 
aside.     That  is  what  1  want." 

"And  that  is  what  1  shall  never,  never  agree  to!"  cried  Deme- 
trius with  loA-,  wrathful  voice.  "  To  blow  away  like  thistledown 
what  has  been  held  dear  and  sacrod  tor  thousands  of  years,  is  a  task 
too  hard  for  me.     Go  and  do  it  yourself;  you  cairy  that  out!" 

"  What  do  3'ou  mean!"  asked  Maria,  proudly  drawmg  herself  up, 
with  a  haughty  glance  of  the  eye. 

"  Yes,  you,  if  anybody,  can  carry  it  out!"  repeated  Demetrius 
steadily,  without  allowing  himself  to  be  intimidated.  "  Only  to-day 
i  was  looking  for  the  likenesses  of  our  ancestors,  that  hf  d  been 
deir  to  our  cliildish  hearts,  the  venerable  portraits  of  our  latlier'a 
grandsires  and  grandmotliers.  who  had  made  the  greatness  of  our 
family.  Where  are  tliey?  There  where  you  have  thrown  our 
tutelar  deities,  the  ]\Iercury  and  Pallas  Athene,  those  noble  orna- 
ments of  our  house,  street,  and  city.  They  have  gone  to  the  lime- 
kiln. Old  Phabis  owned  this  to  me,  with  tears  in  his  eyes.  Alas! 
poor  house,  robbed  of  its  past,  its  adornment,  and  its  protection!" 

"  1  have  given  it  something  better  in  their  stead,"  replied  ]\Iaria, 
with  quivering  voice,  and  exchanging  with  Marcus  a  glance  of  in- 
telligence. "  For  the  last  time,  1  ask,  will  you  or  will  you  not  do 
■what  1  ask?"  „ 

"  1  will  not  do  it!"  answered  Demetrius  coldly. 

"  Then  our  estate  needs  a  new  manager." 

"  You  will  find  him,  but  your  land,  that  is  ours  likewise,  will  be 
converted  into  a  desert.  Poor  laud!  For,  if  you  annihilate  the 
sanctuaries  of  the  field,  you  will  destroy  its  soul  also,  for  they  are 
the  soul  of  the  field.  Around  tlie  sanctuary  trooped  the  first  settlers; 
and  upon  it  and  the  gods  that  inhabit  it,  the  peasant  righily  fixes 
his  hope  for  that  which  he  sows  and  plants,  for  wife,  child  and 
cattle — yes,  all  that  belongs  to  him.  With  the  sanctuary  you  deslroy 
the  hope  of  the  husbandman,  and  with  it  all  the  joyfulness  ot  life. 
1  know  that  the  peasant  will  believe  all  his  toil  to'be  in  vain,  if  you 
take  from  him  tlie  gods,  who  bustow  their  blessing  upon  the  hard 
labor  of  his  hands.  The  husbandman  beholds  in  seed  the  type  ot 
hope,  in  the  growth  of  the  fruit  recognizes  the  power  of  the  gods, 
and  at  harvest  delights  in  returning  them  grateful  thanks.  If  you 
destioy  his  sanctuaries,  you  take  from  him  what  uplifts,  supports, 
and  blesses  him." 

"  We  give  him  other,  and  belter  ones,"  answered  Maria. 

"  Only  see  to  it,  that  they  are  acceptable  to  him,"  gravely  opposed 


SERAPIS.  39 

Deniplritis.  "  Persuade  him  to  love,  to  believe,  and  hope  in  what 
you  will  lorcn  upou  him,  hut  take  not  tiom  him  what  he  holds 
dearest,  before  you  hud  him  iucHued  to,  and  capable  of  acceplinj; 
the  indemnity  that  you  arbitrarily  impose  upon  him.  Let  me  i;o 
uow.  We  are  neither  of  us,  any  longer,  iu  a  mood  for  devisiua; 
suitable  plf.us  lor  the  future.  Only  one  thing  has  been  settled  be- 
tween us,  this  evening:  1  atu  no  longer  superintendent  of  that 
estate." 


CHAPTER  VI 

Demetrius  had  made  good  use  of  his  time,  after  leaving  his  step- 
mother, and  diclaled  several  letters  to  the  Greek  slave,  his  secretary, 
who  had  followed  him  to  Alexandria;  as  lor  himself,  he  detested 
liaudling  the  stylus.  They  all  bore  reference  to  his  predetermined 
departure  from  Syrenaica,  and  his  purpose  of  confining  himself  to 
the  mauagercent  of  his  own  property.  Now,  as  they  lay  before 
him,  rolled  up,  wrapped  around  with  strinc;,  and  sealed, "they  seemed 
to  be  like  stones  marking  a  turning-point  in  his  course  of  life. 

Silently  he  walked  up  and  down,  picturing  to  himself  the  pros- 
pective fate  of  the  slaves  and  peasants,  who  had  so  long  been,  to 
him,  faithful  servants  and  co-laborers,  whose  confidence  he  had 
■won,  and  among  whom  there  was  many  a  one  for  whom  he  felt 
regard. 

He  could  not  imagine  the  lives  of  these  people,  bereft  in  their 
activities  and  their  holidays  of  image,  sacrifice,  garland  and  glad 
song.  They  would  seem,  he  thought,  like  children,  forbidden  to 
play  or  laugh;  and  again  was  forced  upon  him  the  thought  of  his 
own  boyhood,  and  he  recollected  the  Hist  day  of  being  sent  to 
school,  and  made  to  sit  still  in  a  gloomy  room,  instead  of  merrily 
running  at  large  in  the  sunny  garden  belonging  to  his  father's 
house. 

He  wondered,  if  the  world  too  had  reached  that  boundary  line  of 
existence,  where  freedom  and  careless  enjoy  ment  of  life  cease,  and 
the  hard  struggle  after  higher  things  begins. 

If  the  Gospel  contained  the  truth,  and  its  promises  should  be 
fulfilied,  then  it  were  perhaps  advisable  to  accept  its  bond,  and  re- 
sign many  a  brilliant  bauble  of  existence  for  the  sake  of  imperish- 
able treasures.  Many  a  wise  and  good  man  whom  he  had  met  in 
life,  yea,  the  emperor  himself,  Theodosius,  the  great  and  wise,  was 
devoted  heart  and  soul  to  the  doctrines  of  Christ.  DeiKetrius,  too, 
knew  from  his  own  experience  that  his  mother's  faith,  into  which 
he  had  been  indoctrinated  as  a  boy,  and  from  wliich  the  same  father 
who  had  carried  him  lo  the  baptismal  font  had  early  apostatized, 
provided  poor  mortals,  in  this  troublous  existence,  great  consolation 
and  a  strong  support. 

But  his  peasants  and  work  hands!  Were  they  not  healthy  and 
content? 

Clinging  as  they  did  to  old  customs,  what  power  on  earth  could 
move  them  to  give  u\]  venerable  superstitions,  to  which  they  fancied 
they  owed  their  well-being  and  happiness,  anil  seek  in  uncertainty 
what  they  now  already  deemed  their  own  property. 

He  did  not  repent  of  his  hrnmesa,   and  yet  he  said  to  himself 


40  SERA  PIS. 

that  without  liim  Maria  tvould  only  too  soon  carry  ber  purpose  into 
execution  and  accomplish  lusr  work  ot  destruction,  and  there  stood 
forth  betore  his  mind's  eye  in  long  array  all  that  she  had  devoted 
to  downfall,  every  temple,  every  marble  statue,  every  leafy  grotto, 
every  stone  anointed  by  pious  hands. 

lie  was  accustomed  to  begin  every  cay  at  Ihe  first  crowinc:  of  the 
cock,  and  to  retire  early.  This  evening,  as  well,  he  was  preparing 
to  seek  his  couch  betimes,  when  Marcus  entered  his  room  and 
beiiged  Dim  to  spare  him  another  hour. 

""You  bear  a  grudge  against  mother,"  said  the  young  man,  fixing 
upon  him  a  sad  and  pleading  look:  "  but  j'ou  know  her  devolion  to 
the  faith,  and  for  that  she  makes  every  sacritice.  There  again,  how 
bitterly  you  smile!  Just  put  yourself  in  my  place.  Suppose  that 
you  loved  anybody  as  1  love  mother,  would  it  not  pain  you  if  soir.e- 
body  else  very  dear  to  you  loo— for  you  are  my  friend  and  brother 
— should  be  so  bitterly  prejudiced  that  the  one  will  have  nothing 
to  do  with  the  other.  My  heart  is  heavy  enough  to-night  without 
that." 

"  Poor  fellow!"  returned  the  farmer.  "  Indeed  1  am  your  friend 
and  will  be  so  alwavs.  You  are  not  to  blame  at  ail  for  any  of  all 
this!  For  that  matter  1  myself  am  anything  but  in  good  spirits. 
Y'ou  have  made  your  decree.  Down  with  the  sanctuaries,  away 
•with  those  who  think  differently  tiom  what  we  do!  Arrange  the 
matter  as  you  will,  here  and  there  it  will  come  to  deeds  ot  violence; 
yes,  it  no  blood  flows,  it  will  be  a  miracle.  For  you,  the  question 
is  only  about  an  abstract  idea,  tliose  heathen  peasants  in  the  coun- 
try. For  me  the  case  is  entirely  different!  1  know  those  slaves  and 
tenants  personally,  and  can  call  their  wives  and  children  by  name. 
Everyone  of  them  has  given  me  the  morning  and  evening  saluia- 
tion,  shaken  me  by  the  hand,  or  kissed   my  robe.     Many  a  one  has 

come  to  me  weeping  and  gone  off  lejoicing.     By Nobody  ever 

called  me  tender-heartpd.  but  now  would  that  I  were  less  so!  And 
I  boil  over  with  rage  when  1  ask  myself.  And  for  what  is  all  this?" 

"  For  the  sake  of  oui  holy  faith,  Demetrius;  assuredly  only  for 
the  eternal  salvation  of  these  people." 

"  Indeed?"  ask°d  the  farmer,  drawlina  out  the  word.  "  1  know 
better.  Were  that  and  that  only  the  intention  then  would  they 
build  churches  and  chapels,  moreover  send  us  worthy  priests — 
Eusebrius,  for  instance,  and  men  of  his  stamp — who  should  try 
with  that  love,  which  you  so  loudly  protess,  to  win  men  to  your 
Lord.  Early  this  morning  1  myself  counseled  your  mother  to  this 
course.  1  believe  that,  with  us,  as  elsewhere,  tlie  aim  could  l)e  thus 
attained,  not  liowever  in  a  mouth  or  a  year.  The  peasant  who  has 
become  accustomed  to  going  to  church  and  imbibed  confidence  in 
the  new  worship  will  ot  his  own  accord  give  up  the  old  gods  and 
their  shrines.  I  have  seen  as  many  e.\am])les  of  this  as  1  have 
fingeis.  Even  1  would  have  looked  on  at  this  with  composcu'e,  for 
wliat  1  want  with  men  is  their  muscle  and  sinew,  not  tlieir  souls. 
But,  to  burn  down  the  old  house,  before  you  have  even  galliered 
logetfier  wood  and  stone  for  the  new  one,  that  1  call  crimmal.  sin- 
ful, and  foolish.  And  when  m)  prudent  a  woman  as  your  mother 
commits  lierscif  unreservedly  to  s:)  disastrous  a  policy  there  must 
lurk  something  peculiar  in  tiie  baekgrounii. 


SERAPIS.  41 

"  You  Ihink  that  she  wanted  to  set  you  aside,  you,  Demetrius?" 
interposed  Marcus,  with  aaimation.  *'  Ji3ut  you  are  mistaken  in  this, 
indeed  yoii  are.     What  you  have  doue  for  the  property—" 

"  That,  that!"  cried  the  other. 

"  What  have  1  or  my  work  to  do  with  all  this?  In  the  course  of 
the  year— 1  can  see  throu<;;h  a  ii;riudstoue  as  well  as  the  next  one— 
every  trace  of  a  heathenish  .^od  will  have  vanished  from  the  villages 
and  fields  of  the  pious  Maria.  That  is  the  object  held  in  view! 
This  glad  tiding  will  be  borne  to  the  bishop  on  the  wings  of  the 
wind,  and  as  one  ndracle  follows  another,  so  increases  the  chance 
of  winnmg  the  saintly  crowu  held  la  view.  Hence  this  zeal,  there 
lies  the  sole  motor." 

"  You  are  talking  about  my  mother,"  cried  Marcus,  lifting  his 
eyes  to  his  brother  in  touching  entieaty. 

Then  the  farmer  shook  his  bushy  head,  and  contiiiued  in  a  milder 
tone:  "  Yes,  child,  1  had  forgolteti  that,  and  it  might  well  be  that  I 
err;  for  I  am  only  a  man!  One  blow  after  another  has  struck  me 
in  this  house,  until  I  hardly  know  myself  any  longer.  Old  Phabis 
believes  that  they  actually  have  it  on  foot  now  to""  affix  the  seal  of 
martyrdom  to  my  father." 

"  Mother  is  convinced  that  he  died  for  the  faith,  and  because  she 
loved  him  so  dearly." 

"  .Stuff!"  snarled  Demetrius,  striking  the  table  with  his  fist. 
"  That  lie,  sowed  by  somebody,  that  accursed  weed,  has  grown  up 
until  it  overshadows  the  very  roof  of  this  house.  You,  indeed, 
what  cau  you  know  about  our  father.  But  1,  1  knew  him.  1  have 
been  present,  when,  in  company  with  his  philosopher  friends,  he 
has  lauahed  at  all,  not  only  at  that  which  you  Christians,  but  pious 
pagans  too  hold  most  sacred.  Lucretius  was  his  Gospel.  The 
cosmogony  of  that  atheist  lay  beside  his  bed,  and  when  he  journeyed 
it  was  his  companion." 

"  He  loved  the  heathen  poets,  but  for  all  that  he  was  a  Christian 
nevertheless,"  retorted  Marcus. 

"  Wo  more  and  no  less  than  Uncle  Porphyrins  and  I,"  cried  the 
farmer.  "  ttince  our  grandfather  Philippus  received  baptism  good 
fortune  and  harmony  have  turned  their  backs  upon  this  house. 
That  he  might  not  lose  the  job  of  supplying  with  corn  both  the 
Stale  and  emperor  he  abjured  the  old  gods,  he  became  a  Christian, 
and  made  Christians  of  his  children.  But  he  had  them  educated 
by  his  heathen  friends,  and  so  they  passed  for  what  they  were  not. 
When  it  could  not  be  avoided  he  showed  himself  with  them  at 
churcli,  but  their  dail}^  lives,  their  pleasures,  their  recreations  were 
!ill  healhenisn,  and  when  any  crisis  occurred  in  their  life  they 
.  offered  a  bloody  sacrifice  to  tiie  gods.  To  draw  back  was  an  im- 
possibility, for  the  Christian  who  proves  recreant  to  the  faith  acd 
goes  back  to  his  idols  loses  the  right  to  will  his  own  properly  by 
testament.  You  know  the  law,  and  if  you  ask  why  1  myself  am 
without  wife  or  offspring,  dearly  as  1  love  children,  why,  as  a 
solitary  man  1  drag  out  a  dreary  existence,  let  me  tell  3'ou,  it  is  be- 
cause 1  serve  the  old  gods  openly  and- freely,  not  going  to  church 
because  1  despise  falsehood.  What  should  1  do  with  children  who 
must  be  disinherited  because  of  my  acts?  The  right  to  will  prop- 
erty, that  alone  induced  my  father  to  have  me  baptized  as  a  boy 


42  SERAPIS. 

and  pretend  to  be  a  Christian.  "With  Lncrelius  in  liis  traveling- 
bag — witii  these  hands  1  phiced  the  little  roll  beside  his  purse— he 
set  olT  for  Petwi  to  obtain  a  contract  for  supplying  the  City  ot  Kocks 
with  corn.  On  his  way  home  he  was  murdered,  eviilently  by  his 
own  servant  Anubis,  who  knew  what  valuables  he  carried  upon  his 
person,  and  has  never  been  heard  of  since.  At  the  same  time 
heathenish  i^aracens  had  falkn  upon  and  killed  some  (Jhristian  pil- 
grims and  anchorites  in  the  district  ot  country  between  Petra  and 
Aila.  Upon  this  and  this  only  j-our  mother  founded  the  riglit  to 
call  our  father  a  martyr.  And  yet  she  was  well  aware  ot  his  senti- 
ments, and  had  shod  plcnl}^  of  tears  on  their  account.  Now  she 
expends  vast  sums  on  everj'^  church  Ijeing  built.  Now  she  estab- 
lishes an  inn  on  charitable  principles,  and  again  casts  handfuls  ot 
gold  to  monks  and  convents,  with  a  never-to-be-sated  ztal.  To 
what  end?  Our  father  is  to  be  recognized  as  a  martyr!  But  hilhcr- 
to  she  has  lavished  her  means  and  toil  in  vain.  Tlie  bishop  is,  so 
far  as  I  am  concerned,  a  hateful  tyrant;  1  know  him  right  well,  so 
he  accepts  what  she  oilers  and  yet  accedes  not  to  her  wisues!  Now 
she  brings  her  best  forces  into' the  field,  and  suriirises  him  with  a 
new  marvel.  Like  a  juggler,  who  makes  a  black  egg  out  ot  a 
white  one  by  a  turn  of  the  hand,  she  converts  a  pagan  into  a  Chris- 
tian landscape.  For  my  part,  1  shall  not  help  her  to  carry  on  her 
little  game." 

During  this  discourse  Marcus  had  sometimes  cast  down  his  eyes, 
then  again  opened  them  wide,  looking  at  his  biolher  in  wonder  and 
distress.  Fax  a  long  while  he  found  not  one  word  to  give  back  in 
reply,  and  it  was  manifest  that  a  fierce  conflict  was  beinc  fought  in 
his  breast. 

Demetrius  did  not  disturb  him,  and  silently  put  in  order  the 
l>apyrus  leaves  on  the  table,  until  Marcus  addressed  him,  and  alter 
drawing  a  deep  sigh  in  a  tone  of  assured  conviction  and  with  a 
blissful  smile  which  illuminated  his  whole  countenance,  exclaimed : 

"  Poor  mother!  Like  you,  many  will  misinterpret  her;  why  1 
was  myself  in  danger  of  doubting  her.  But  now,  1  think,  I  under- 
stand her  peifectly.  She  loved  my  father  so  devotedly,  and  what 
he  failed  to  gain  for  himself,  while  in  the  flesh,  that  she  would 
now  struggle  after  in  behalf  of  liis  immortal  soul.  lie  had  received 
baptism,  and  her  prayers,  her  self-sacrifice,  will  avail  to  obtain 
grace  for  him  from  Him,  who  so  gladly  pardons.  She  believes  in 
the  death,  by  nfartyrdom,  of  oui  dear  deceased,  and  it  the  chuich 
extends  salvation  to  them  who  have  bled  for  her,  then  is  he  saved, 
and  she  will  meet  him  again  beyond  the  skies,  and  there  in  purer 
light,  when  her  Lord  shall  summon  her  hence,  overflowing  wi'h 
love  and  intense  gratitude,  he  will  extend  his  arms  to  embrace  the 
beloved  companion,  who  will  have  .«aved  his  soul.  \cs,  now  1 
understand  her  perfectly,  and  from  this  time  forth  will  aid  her,  and 
the  hardest  tiling  shall  not  be  hard  to  me,  the  best  thing  not  too 
good,  to  expend  in  unlocking  heaven's  gate  to  the  poor,  imperiled 
soul  of  our  father!" 

At  the  last  words  the  young  man's  face  glowed  with  enthnsi- 
nsm.  and  even  the  rough  farmer's  heart  was  softened,  but  to  con- 
ceal his  emotion  he  said  in  a  tone  more  careless  and  harsh  than 
usual  •. 


SERA  PIS.  43 

"  That  is  bravely  put,  nn^  dear  boy!"  Then  he  hiirrietlly  drew 
his  hand  across  his  eyes,  slapped  Marcus  on  the  shoulder,  and  con- 
tinued with  animation:  "  Rather  die  tliau  give  up  what  you  know 
to  be  right.  To  give  candid  expression  to  one's  thought  never  yet 
hurt  anybody.  It  people  can  not  alwai^s  agree,  they  at  least  learn 
how  to  comprehend  one  another.  1  have  my  way  and  you  yours. 
"We  have  been  sincere  with  each  other  though;  and  yet  atter  trag- 
edy comes  the  iarce,  so  1  think  that  we  may  as  well  clnse  this  ex- 
citing evening  with  a  little  harmless  chit-chat." 

So  saying,  Demetrius  threw  himself  out  upon  a  cushion  at  full 
length,  inviting  Marcus  to  do  the  same,  and  soon  the  conversation 
turned  upon  horses,  as  it  was  exceedingly  apt  to  do  when  these  two 
came  together.  Marcus  praised  tUe  mares  which  had  been  trained 
for  him  by  his  brother,  and  which  he  had  yesterday  exercised  in 
the  hippodrome,  and  the  larmer  added  selfcomplacently : 

"All  four  by  the  same  father  and  mothers  of  most  excellent 
stock.  1  broke  them  in  myself,  and  should  like  to—  But  why 
were  you  not  in  the  stable  this  morning  early?" 

"  1  couUl  not  come,"  replied  Marcus,  and  he  blushed  slightly. 

"  Then  we'll  drive  out  to  Nicopolis  to-morrow,  and  I'll  show  you 
how  to  get  Megara  past  the  Taraxippus."* 

"  To-morrow,  say  you?"  asked  Marcus,  with  embarrassment. 
"1  have  to  go  and  call  on  Eusebius  early  in  the  morning,  and 
then — " 

"  Well,  then?" 

"  Then  I  must,  that  is  to  say,  1  would  like  to—" 

"What?" 

"  Of  course—  Perhaps  1  might,  nevertheless.  But  no,  no,  it  can 
not  be  done— 1  have — " 

"  AVhat,  what,  what?"  asked  the  farmer,  with  growing  impa- 
tience. "  My  time  is  limited,  and  if  you  want  those  horses  to  run, 
and  know  not  my  way  of  managing  them,  most  assuredly  they  will 
not  do  their  best  for  you.  When  the  market  filis  up,  let  us  lake  a 
drive.  We  shall  need  a  few  hours  for  the  hippodrome,  then  dine 
at  '  tlie  Damon,'  and  before  it  gets  dark—" 

"  No,  no,"  asseverated  Marcus;  "  just  to-morrow  1  certainly  can 
not—" 

"  He  who  has  nothing  to  do  is  generally  pressed  for  time,"  inter- 
posed the  farmer.     "  Is  to-morrow  a  holiday?' - 

"  Not  that,  but,  gracious  heavens,  although  1  should  like  to—" 

"Should  like  to,  should  like  to!"  exclaimed  Demetrius,  indig- 
nantly, plautinsc  himself  with  crossed  arms  in  front  ot  his  brother. 
"  Say  in  brief:  '  1  will  not,'  or,  '  What  1  intend  lo  do,  is  my  sccrtt 
and  none  of  your  business;'  but  be  done  with  that  miserable  affec- 
tation!" 

These  vivacious  words  augmented  tae  young -man's  embarrass- 
ment, and  while  he  was  racking  his  brain  for  an  answer  that  would 
come  near  tiie  truth,  and  yet  not  betray  himself,  Demetrius,  who 
had  not  taken  his  eyes  ofl  of  him,  called  out: 

"By  the  foam-born  Aplirodite!  1  do  declare  there  is  a  lady  in 
the  case— an  appointment!  Women,  women— everywhere  women!" 

*  gometliing  used  for  scaring  horses. 


44  SERAPIS. 

"  An  appointment!"  repeated  Marcus,  after  his  brother,  shaking 
his  head  in  token  ot  liissenl.  "  Kobody  is  expecting  nie;  and  yet 
better  that  you  siiouid  misinterpret  me  than  that  1  siiould  speak 
talriely.  Yes,  then,  1  am  on  the  search  atler  a  woman,  and  it  1  do 
not  find  her  to-morrow,  it  1  (h)  not  to-morrow  attain  that  to  wliich 
my  heart  nrjres  me,  tiien  slie  may  l)e  lost,  not  to  me  at  all — for  1, 
1  cast  not  heavenly  love  away  for  the  love  of  the  tlesh — but  to  my 
Lord  and  Saviour.  The  morrow's  slake  is  Hie,  eternal  life,  or  ever- 
lasting death  for  a  tair  being  formed  in  the  likeness  of  God." 

The  farmer's  amazement  was  ever  increasing,  and  with  a  gesturo 
of  impatience,  he  paid: 

"  Again  you  huve  overstepped  the  boundaries  of  the  territory  on 
which  we  occupy  common  ground.  You  are  an  enigma  to  me.  1 
should  not  suspect  you  of  being  old  enough  to  l)e  disturbing  j^our- 
self  about  the  imperiled  souls  of  fair  women.  With  those  who 
swim  on  the  surface  one  goes  into  the  water  without  risk,  but  the 
drowning  ones  drag  us  down  with  them,  "iou  are  a  handsome  ras- 
cal, have  money,  and  drive  tine  horses,  and  there  are  plenty  of 
sharp  women  liere  spreading  their  nets — " 

"  The  question  is  not  about  me," eagerly  replied  Marcus.  "  Here 
1  am  the  fisher,  a  fisher  of  souls,  and  such  shoidd  every  believer  be. 
She  is  innocence,  simplicilj''  itself,  with  all  her  sweet  mischief.  But 
she  has  fallen  into  the  hands  of  sinful  heathens,  and  here,  where  se- 
duction goes  about  like  a  roaring  lion,  she  will  be  lost  it  1  do  not 
save  her.  Twice  1  have  seen  her  in  my  dreams,  once  close  to  the 
jaws  of  a  raging  dragon,  and  the  other  time  on  the  verge  of  a  tower- 
ing precipice,  and  both  times  an  angel  called  to  me,  and  bade  me 
save  her  from  the  teeth  ot  the  monster,  and  falling  into  the  abyss 
below.  Since  then  her  image  has  been  ever  present  with  me, 
whether  I  eat,  talk,  or  ride,  and  just  as  perpetually  1  hear  the  warn- 
ing voice  of  the  angel.  Au:l  her,  upon  whom  the  Jlost  High  has 
lavished  all  the  gifts  with  which  He  adorned  Eve— her,  to  guide  her 
into  the  path  ot  salvation,  that  is  a  blessed  duty,  and  1 'will  per- 
form it." 

The  farmer  had  followed  the  inspired  words  of  his  brother  with 
increasing  solicitude.     Now  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  said: 

"  One  might  envy  your  acquaintance  with  this  favorite  ot  the 
gods,  but  1  should  thinlv  that  your  work  ot  soul-saving  might  be 
postponed.  You  have  been  away  from  Alexandria  for  a  whole  halt 
year,  and  it  she  has  kept  her  head  above  water  so  long—" 

"  Speak  not  so;  j'ou  dare  not  talk  thus,"  cried  Marcus,  pressing 
his  hand  upon  his  heart,  as  though  it  pained  him.  "1  liave  no 
time  to  lose,  tor  1  must  ieain  wliither  that  old  singer  has  led  her. 
I  am  not  so  inexperienced  as  you  think.  JTe  brings  her  here  to  make 
an  ill  use  of  her  beauty  and  to  enrich  himself.  You  met  her  your- 
self on  shipboard.  1  had  procured  them  lodgings  here,  you  know, 
in  my  mother's  Xenodochiuni." 

"  For  whon\?"  asked  Demetrius,  folding  his  arms. 

"  The  singers  whom  1  took  into  our  ship  at  Ostia.  And,  now, 
now,  they  have  vanished  from  that  pliice  of  letuge,  and  Dada — " 

"  Dada'i'"  cried  Demetrius,  bursting  into  a  loud  peal  of  laughter, 
without  ol)gerviug  that  Marcus  shrunk  liom  liim  in  glowing  indig- 
nation. "  Dada,  that  fair-haired  little  giil,  is  before  your  eyes,  night 


SERAPIS.  45 

and  day,  and  an  angel  exhorts  you  to  the  rescue  of  that  merry, 
lively  thing?  Shame  upon  you,  my  boy!  What  will  you  bel  me? 
If  1  sacrifice  this  parcel  of  sold  she  would  be  off  with  me  to-mor- 
row, me,  the  rawboned,  freckle-faced  countryman  with  my  hair 
bristling  all  over  my  head  like  a  chamber-maid's  mop.  1  tell  you 
she  would  with  me  to  ArsiuoB,  or  anywhere  else  I  chose.  Let  the 
.iade  go,  you  foolish  piece  of  innocence!  Such  a  soul  as  that  is 
fitted  for  a  more  commonplace  heaven  than  yours." 

"  Take  that  back!"  cried  Marcus,  beside  himselt,  and  he  doubled 
up  his  fist.  "  But  that  is  just  you.  With  your  own  impure  eyes 
f  nd  heart  you  soil  what  is  purest,  and  discern  even  spots  upon  the 
Bun.  Of  a  '  siu^er  '  anything  may  be  believed,  1  know.  But  that, 
just  that,  is  the  very  thing!  ""1  would  save  hei  from  that  curse!  If 
you  can  bring  one  fault  to  her  charge,  do  so;  if  you  know  nothing 
against  her,  and  would  not  stand  before  roe  in  the  light  of  a  slan- 
derer, then  take  back  what  you  have  said,  on  the  snot!" 

"  1  take  it  all  back,"  said  Demetrius,  composedly,  "  for  1  know 
nothing  more  of  your  beauty  than  what  1  read  in  the  glances  of  her 
pretty ,"merry  eyes,  glances  speaking  to  you,  me,  Cj^negius  and  his 
scribes.  But  people  say  that  the  language  of  the  eye  does  not  al- 
ways speak  truth.  So,  no  oliense,  please!  If  I  understood  you 
aright,  you  are  in  ignorance  now  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  the 
singer.     If  you  have  no  objection  I'll  aid  you  in  your  search." 

"  As  you  will,"  returned  Marcus,  provoked.  "  In  spite  of  your 
mockery  I  shall  do  what  1  believe  to  be  my  duty." 

"Right,  right,"  replied  his  brother.  "Perhaps  this  maiden  is 
difterent  from  other  public  singers  of  her  sex,  among  whom,  in  my 
younger  days,  1  spent  many  a  night  in  carousal.  At  Barca  1  once 
saw  a  while  raven  with  my  own  eyes,  but  after  all  perhaps  it  was 
only  a  dove.  In  this  case  your  judgment  is  of  more  weight  than 
mine,  for  you  concerned  youiself  about  the  girl,  while  1  did  not; 
but  it  is  very  late  already.  Good-night,  then,  till  to-morroW,  Mar- 
cus, my  boy!" 

The  brothers  parted,  and  as  soon  as  he  was  left  alone  Demetrius 
paced  up  and  down  the  apartment,  shaking  his  head. 

When  his  body-servant  came  to  pack  up  his  things  he  called  out 
to  him  peevishly: 

"  Be  done  tnere,  we  shall  stay  a  few  days  longer  in  Alexandria!" 

Marcus  did  not  retire  to  rest.  His  brother's  scorn  had  shaken  his 
soul  to  its  very  foundations.  An  inner  voice  told  him  that  the 
experienced  man  of  the  world  might  be  right,  but  at  tlie  san:e  time 
he  reproached  himself  biiterlyfor  paying  any  heed  whatever  to  this 
voice.  The  old  curse  of  her  calling  rested  heavily  upon  Dada;  she 
herself  was  pure,  pure  as  the  lily,  pure  as  the  Heart  of  a  little  child, 
pure  as  the  blue  of  her  own  eye  and  the  metal  of  her  voice.  What 
the  angel  had  bidden  him  do,  he  would  perform.  He  must,  he 
could  save  her. 

Deeply  moved,  he  peeped  through  the  great  front  door,  out  upon 
Canopian  Street,  and  followed  its  course.  As  he  was  about  to  turn 
into  a  cioss-street,  in  order  to  reach  the  lake,  he  found  it  blocked 
up  with  soldiery,  tor  it  led  to  the  prefecture,  the  present  abode  of 
the  emperor's  enibassador,  Cynegius.  of  whom  it  was  reported  that 
he  had  come  to  close  the  teiiiples,  and  before  its  doors  the  excited 


46  SERAPIS. 

populace  liad  massed  itself  in  the  afternoon  in  order  to  demonstrate 
its  repiignanci!  to  sucli  a  uiission.  'I'oward  sundown  an  armed  force 
Lad  interposed  and  dispersed  tlie  mol).  IJy  another  way,  however, 
the  young  Christian  linally  reached  the  lulvc-shore. 


CHAPTER  Vll. 

WniLE  Marcus  restlessly  paced  to  and  Iro  on  the  strand  with 
Da(hi's  imase  before  his  eyes,  and  tliouglit  out  persuasive  arguments 
with  which  lie  would  touch  her  heart,  and  produce  in  her  mind  con- 
viction of  the  true  plan  ot  salvation,  it  had  grown  quiet  in  the  Hoat- 
ing  liome  ot  the  minstrel  family.  A  soft,  whitish  mist  hovered  over 
Lake  Moeris,  like  a  light  veil"  that  had  been  woven  by  the  night 
out  of  moonshine  and  clouds  laden  with  moisture. 

Work  had  long  since  ceased  on  the  dock,  and  the  mighty  ribs  of 
hulks  foi  half-made  ships  threw  wondrous  ghost-like  shadows  that 
rested  like  dark  incorporeal  crabs,  ceniipedes,  or  gigantic  spiders  on 
the  sandy  ground,  silvered  by  the  moonlight. 

Not  a  sound  from  the  city  penetrated  to  this  distance.  She  lay 
there  as  though  under  the  spell  ot  drunken  stupor.  The  Roman 
cohorts  had  cleared  the  streets,  extinguishing  the  lights  in  the  houses 
as  well  as  upon  the  streets  and  squares,  but  the  moon  shone  over 
Alexandria's  roofs,  and  afar  oft,  from  the  light-house  on  the  north- 
eastern *iioint  of  the  island  of  Pharos  blazed  lamps,  with  the  efful- 
gence ot  a  midnight  sun. 

In  the  gi-and  "cabin,  in  the  stern  of  the  vessel,  reposed  the  two 
maidens  on  downy  couches,  covered  with  line  drapery.  Aynes  was 
awake,  and  looked  out  into  the  darkness  with  wide-open  eyes;  Dada 
liad  long  since  fallen  asleep,  and  yet  her  breathing  was  troubled  and 
irregular,  and  at  times  lur  red  lips  contracted  painfully.  She 
dreamed  of  the  excited  throng,  that,  the  day  before,  had  torn  the 
flowers  out  ot  her  hair,  and  saw  ]\larcus  interpose  and  rescue  her 
trom  her  pursuers;  then  she  believed  herself  to  be  tailing  from  the 
gangway  that  joined  the  ship  to  the  shore,  while  old  Damia  stood  on 
land,  mocking  at  her  without  ofTtring  her  any  help.  Night  had 
always  brought  to  her  hitherto  either  sound  sleep  or  pleasant  dreams, 
but  this  time  one  disagreeable  vision  followed  after  the  other,  al- 
though the  evening  had  brought  her  a  great  joy. 

Soon  after  her  return  home  from  her  walk  into  the  city,  the 
steward  had  come  on  board,  and  with  his  old  lady's  compliments, 
presented  to  her  an  elegant  dress,  and  an  Egyptian  waiting-maid 
besides,  who  was  familiar  with  all  the  requirements  of  a  lady's  toilet, 
and  would  be  her  personal  attendant  so  long  as  she  remained  in 
Alexandria. 

Su-ch  a  robe  Dada  had  never  before  called  her  own.  Ihe  under- 
skirt was  of  siift  sea-gieen  silk,  and  was  trimmed  with  wide  lace, 
above  which  run  a  garland  of  blush  roses  and  rose-buds,  executed, 
in  fine  needle-work.  The  irpper  robe  was  of  the  same  color,  and 
edged  with  the  same  lace.  This  upper  garment  was  to  be  clasped 
at  the  shoulders  by  costly  bands,  the  center-piece  of  which  was  a 
line  oval-shaped  mosaic,  representing  a  halt-l)lo\vn  rose  set  in  gold. 
In  a  separate  box  lay  a  golden  girdle,  a  bracelet  of  the  same  precious 


SERAPIS.  47 

metal,  in  the  shape  ot  a  serpent,  a  golden  crescent,  in  the  center  of 
which,  as  on  the  shoulder-bands,  was  to  be  si.eii  the  picture  ot  a 
rose,  and  a  metal  minor  of  faultlessly  polished  surface. 

The  slaee  was  a  middlc-ased  woman  with  brown,  cunning  face, 
and  immediately  lent  Dada  aid  in  pulling  on  her  new  rose-dress. 
Nor  did  this  accomplished  maid  omit  to  dress  the  young  lady's  hair 
anew;  and,  while  thus  engu,i;vd,  liad  not  wearied,  like  some  young 
lover,  of  ringing  the  changea  upon  all  the  fair  gifts  with  which 
Nature  had  endowed  her  young  mistress. 

Agnes  had  smilmgly  watched  her,  had  obligingly  handed  the  maid 
the  pins  and  ribbons  that  she  needed,  and  feasted  herself  on  the 
l)leasure  and  beauty  ot  her  companion. 

At  last  Dada  repaired  in  full  dress  to  the  grand  saloon,  and  there 
was  gratifietl  by  hearing  many  au  approving  Oh!  and  Ah!  from  the 
men  assemliled  there,  with  ivhom  sat  also  the  singer  .Aleclius,  whom 
Ivarnis  had  met  in  tlie  street,  and  with  whom  he  liad  associated 
himself. 

Even  Herse,  who  had  received  her  rather  ill-humoredly  upon  her 
return  from  the  city,  could  not  lefrain  trom  bestowing  upon  her  a 
kindly  smde,  although,  at  the  same  time,  she  shook  her  linger  at 
her,  and  said: 

"  The  old  lady  has  set  out  to  turn  your  head  completely.  All  (hat 
is  very  pretty,  but  it  will  only  provoke  llie  tongue  ot  slander.  Al- 
ways remember  thai  you  are  my  own  sister's  child.  1  shall  cer- 
tainly not  forget  it,  and  keep  my  eyes  wide  open." 

Orpheus  had  nothing  more  pressing  to  do  than  to  light  all  the 
candles  and  lamps,  of  which  there  were  an  abundance  in  this 
richly-furnished  aparlmcnt,  and  when  Dada  now  presented  herself 
before  Ki.rnis  in  the  full  ghiie  of  wax-light,  he  exclaimed: 

■■  i^ike  a  senator's  daughter!     Long  live  the  beauty!" 

Then  she  ran  up  to  Uim,  and  gave  hwn  a  kiss,  bul,  on  the  other 
hand,  wLien  Orpheus  came  about  her,  extolling  the  tineness  of  text- 
ure and  arlislic  workmanship  ot  her  armlets,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
turned  the  serpent  encircling  tier  round  arm,  she  drew  back  indig- 
nantly. 

Medius,  a  man  of  Karnis'  age,  and  a  former  associate  ot  his, 
kept  his  eye  continually  riveted  upon  tlie  maiden,  and  whispered  to 
her  uncle  that  Dada  could  hold  her  own  in  a  comijurison  with  any 
beauty  of  Alexandria,  and  that  with  this  jewel  he  might  in  tlie 
most  honest  manner  again  become  a  wep.lthy  man. 

At  his  solicitation,  she  must  undertake  Ihe  pruseutatit  n  of  many 
line  characters.  Slie  had  to  pose  ns  flebe,  who  hands  ueelar  to  the 
gods,  as  Nausicaa,  listening  to  the  tales  of  Ulysses,  and  as  Sa|)pho 
singing. 

The  girl  delighted  in  this  acting,  smd  when  Medius,  who  never 
left  her  side,  wanted  to  prevad  upon  licr  to  show  herself  in  similar 
characters  at  the  enteitainmeiils  ot  ]?osidonius,  the  wizard,  belore  a 
se'ect  assemblage,  assuring  her  that  thus  ni  a  few  mouths  she  could 
make  her  family  rich  again,  she  (-lapped  her  hands,  and  exclaimed: 
"  You  dragged  yourself  along  wilJi  me  through  the  streets,  and  to 
reward  you  for  acting  as  my  escort  l)ow  1  w<ndd  like  to  Duv  back 
for  you  your  pretty  vineyard.  1  am  therefore  to  show  myself  be- 
fore the  people  so— so,  and  so  am  1,  and  let  them  gape  at  me?    The 


48  SERA  PIS. 

idea  has  suddenly  taken  me  that  1  can  hoax  the  spectators!  If  they 
do  not  come  loo  close  lo  nie,  1  could  in  truth—" 

"Tlien  you  could  do  iiolliiug  belter,"  said  Medius,  interrupting 
her,  "  lliau  play  the  parts  tliat  would  be  assigned  you  by  Posidonius. 
Ills' auilieiices  want  to  see  lovely  visions,  friendly  {guardian  spirits, 
and  the  like.  You  enurLu;  from  the  clouds,  behind  a  transparent 
veil,  they  greet  you  with  enthusiasm,  or  adoringly  stretch  out  their 
arms  to  vou." 

All  this  seemed  very  fascinating  to  Dada,  and  she  was  about  to 
give  her  h;ind  to  Medius  in  token  ot  asseatwhen  her  eyecaugld.  the 
futensely  anxious  expression  upon  the  Christian  girl's  countenance, 
■who  stood  just  opposite  to  her,  blusliing  deeply.  Tlie  blood  rushed 
into  her  own  cheeks,  and  w^ith  a  curt,  "  But  it  will  not  do,"  she 
turned  hei  back  upon  Ibe  old  man,  and  threw  herself  down  upon 
the  sofa  next  an  elegant  Cliina  vase. 

Now  Medius  began  to  hesieae  Karnis  and  Hersc  with  representa- 
tions, but  they  rejected  his  offers,  because  they  hoped  to  leave 
Alexandria  in"  a  few  days;  a>id  so  nothing  was  left  for  him  to  do 
but  submit.  JMeanwhiie  he  did  not  give  up  the  game  as  utterly  lost, 
and  in  order  to  win  Dada's  favors  made  her  laugh  by  comic  antics, 
or  showed  her  surprising  tricks  of  sleight  of  hand,  and  soon  the 
floating  parlor  rang  with  laughter,  the  clicking  of  glasses  and  merry 
songs,"iu  which  even  Agneo  had  to  take  a  part.  Not  until  toward 
midnight  did  Medius  take  his  leave,  when  llerse  hurried  off  her 
family  to  bed. 

After  the  wiiling-maid  had  undressed  her  young  mistress  Dada 
threw  herself  into  the  arms  ot  the  Christian,  who  was  just  about  le- 
tiring.  and  kissmc;  her  passiouiitely,  cried  out:  "  You  are  much, 
much' better  thnn  l!     How  do  you  always  know  wiiat  is  right?" 

And  with  this  she  comjjosed  herself  for  rest,  but  once  more  ad- 
dressed Ague?,  saying:  "  Marcus  will  certainly  find  us,  and!  would 
like  to  know  wliat  phin  he  has  for  me." 

A  few  minutes  later,  and  slumber  had  sealed  her  eyelids,  but  the 
Christian  was  still  waking,  lier  thoughts  iound  no  rest,  and  sleep 
that  had  been  so  kind  to  her  the  night  before,  now  refused  to  visit 
her  couch. 

So  much  had  happened  to  her  to-day  that  filled  her  bosom  with 
disquiet.  The  unrestrained  jollity  of  this  family  of  minstrels  had 
hitherto  been  witnessed  bv  her  as  a  silent  sympathizer,  and  these 
light-he.irted  people  had  then  always  struck  her  as  spendthrifts, 
who  wasted  their  substance  in  a  few  days,  then  to  starve  long  years 
in  rueful  penitence  and  woe.  Uneasy  about  the  salvation  of  these 
poor  souls,  but  glad  in  her  own  faith,  she  had  then  sought  rest  with 
her  Saviour  and  Redeemer,  and  soon  found  it.  I3ut  to-day  matters 
were  difl'erent  with  her,  for  in  the  liouse  of  Porphyrins  she  bad  en- 
countered a  new  and  unlooked-for  temptation. 

She  liad  ai:ain  heard  Gorgo  sing,  and  blended  her  own  voice  with 
hers.  Her  ear  had  drunk  in  strains  breathing  of  tiitler  woe,  lofty 
aspiration,  and  warm  outpourings  of  the  heart  in  praise  of  that  beau- 
tiful and  mighty  divinity,  and  her  soul  luid  been  tilled  with  shud- 
dering rapture,  althougl'i  she  knew  ihat  tiicy  liad  emanated  from 
the  brain  ot  heathen  poels,  and  been  exquisitely  set  to  music  by  lost 


SEHAPIS.  49 

idolators.  And  yet,  and  yet,  they  had  touched  hei  heart,  filling  her 
breast  with  delight  and  her  eyes  with  tears! 

iNow  she  must  also  acknoft'ledge  to  herself  that  she  could  have 
lent  to  her  own  woe,  her  own  s'"'titude,  her  own  aspirations,  her 
own  liope  ot  life  eternal,  no  fairer,  purer,  more  inspired  expression, 
than  had  done  this  fair  devotee  to  pai;ani8m. 

Astonishment,  unrest,  yea,  aslit^ht  feeling  of  jealousy,  had  mingled 
in  her  rapture  at  Gorgo's  singing. 

How  was  it  possible  that  this  heathen  could  feel  and  render  out- 
wani  expression  to  what  she  had  ever  considered  as  the  Clirislian's 
l)rerogative,  and  what  she  herself  had  experienced  in  the  liveliest 
manner,  when  iu  closest  communion  with  her  Saviour. 

Could  her  own  feelings  have  not  been  genuine?  had  intercourse 
with  heathens  perverted  her?  This  suspicion  disturbed  her  sorely, 
and  it  must  have  had  its  origin  in  something  more  than  mere  sell- 
torture;  for  had  it  even  come  info  her  mind  \o  inquire  to  whom  that 
hymn  for  two  voices  was  addressed  with  its  plaintive  appeals,  when 
Karnis  had  first  gone  through  it  with  hei  alone,  and  she  had  sung 
it,  timidly  in  the  beginning,  the  second  time  more  confidently,  and 
finally,  carried  away  by  the  beauty  and  deep  fervor  ot  the  lament 
that  it  contained,  accompanied  Gorgo  in  it  without  a  mistake? 

Now,  she  knew,  for  Karnis  himself  had  told  her. 

It  was  the  lament  of  Isis  over  her  deceased  husband  and  brother 
—oh!  the  heathenish  outrage!  And  that  deceased  one  was  the 
idol  Osiris!  The  weeping  widow,  who  called  him  back  "  with  the 
still  voice  of  tears,"  was  that  chief  ot  heathen  goddesses,  concerning 
whose  worship  her  father  had  frequently  spoken  with  such  abhor- 
rence. But  this  lamsnt  was  so  genuine  and  true,  so  permeated  by 
the  agonized  feeling  of  an  afflicted  soul,  that  it  touched  her  to  the 
heart.  The  suffering  Mother  ot  God  might  have  pleaded  just  so  for 
the  resurrection  of  her  Son;  just  so  must  she  have  bewailed, 
lamented,  and  called  back  to  life  liim,  the  "  godlike  one,"  as  he  was 
called  in  her  father's  Arian  confession  of  faith! 

But  all  this  was  nothing  but  heathenish  deception,  the  jugglery  and 
legerdemain  of  the  devil,  and  yet  had  she  not  looked  oii  t"o  the  end, 
Hnd  given  herself  up  to  it,  with  her  whole  soul?  i'es,  more,  yet. 
After  she  had  understood  tlnit  Gorgo  represented  Isis,  but  she, 
Nephlhys,  the  sister  of  the  deified  pair,  she  had  only  faintly  opposed 
the  proposition  to  take  part  in  this  duet,  in  the  temple  of  the  god- 
dess; and  when  Gorgo  had  drawn  close  up  to  her  like  an  affectionate 
sister,  and  besought  he''  not  to  spoil  her  pleasure  but  griint  her  re- 
quest, she  had  not  repulsed  the  fair  tempter  with  severity,  but  only 
prayed  for  time  to  reflect. 

But  whence  could  she  have  gathered  spirit  for  refusal,  when  this 
noble  young  lady,  those  character  and  singing  appeared  so  very 
charming  and  attractive,  face  to  face,  and  with  her  beautiful  arms 
thrown  tenderly  around  her  neck  had  implored  her  tluis:  "  Now, 
do  it,  love,  do  it,  to  please  me.  Vfhat  1  ask  of  you  is  nothing  bad! 
A  pure  song  is  acceptable  to  every  god.  Lament,  if  you  choose,  for 
yours,  who  likewise  suffered  severely  on  his  cross.  It  does  me  good 
io  hear  jou  sing.     Say  j'es!    For  my  sake,  do  not  refuse." 

Then  had  she,  whose  heart  was  keenly  susceptible  of  gratitude  and 
affection,  flung  her  arms  around  the  heathen  maiden's  neck,  pressed 


50  SERAPIS. 

her  to  her  bosom,  and  exclaimcfl:  "  As  you  will,  wlialevcr  you  ask, 
shall  be  done!"  And  Orpheus,  too,  had  ur^ed  her  to  be  oblltring  to 
Gnrsro,  himself  and  tlie  rest  of  the  family,  and  it  had  seemed  im- 
possible to  her  to  refuse  the  first  entreaty  ever  made  to  her  by  the 
modest  young  man  to  Avhoni  she  would  so  willint-ly  have  granted 
evcrvthins^,  but  iievertlieless  she  had  restrained  herself,  and  in  her 
contusion,  without  thinkinir,  or  weiirhing  properly  her  words,  had 
she  sought  only  for  evasion  and  postponement. 

She  might  have  compromised  herself  awkwardly  enough,  but 
C!orgo  had  not  pursuea  lier  entreaties  further;  and  when  she  had 
found  courage,  after  leaving  Porphyrins'  house,  to  refuse  dcci:ledlv 
to  enter  tlic  temple  of  Isis,  Kamis  had  answered  nothing  ])ut:  "  Be 
grateful  that  this  blessed  viigio,  this  favorite  of  the  Muses,  deems 
you  worthy  of  singing  with  her.     The  rest  follows  with  time." 

In  these  sleeiiless  Jiours  of  the  night,  was  made  manifest  to  her 
the  abyss  on  which  she  stood.  Like  Judas,  she  i)ad  been  in  the  act 
of  betraying  her  Lord,  not  for  filthy  lucre's  sake,  but  out  of  regard 
to  the  fleeting  melody  of  a  human  voice,  and  her  own  art,  to  gratify 
a  suddenly  awakened  fancy;  probably  also,  because  it  gratified  her 
childish  vanilv  to  be  placed  on  tiie  same  footing  with  a  noble  lady 
of  distinction,' and  a  sougscress  that  Karnis  and  Orrheus  admired 
extravagantly.  . 

^he  was  an  enigma  to  herself,  and  one  passage  in  the  Bible  after 
another  forced  themsehes  upon  her  m  mory,  and  condemned  her. 

There  lay  Dada's  rose-dress!  To-day  it  had  been  worn  lor  the 
finst  lime,  in  a  month  would  be  hardly  presentable,  and  how  very 
soon  wouhi  it  be  cast  aside,  as  worn  out.  And  so,  exactly  so  was 
it  with  every  worldly  pleasure,  every  joy  in  this  brief,  earthly  ex- 
istence. A  h !  most  assuredly  she  was  here  below  no  happpy  maiden, 
in  Karnis'  sense  of  the  term;  but  in  you  bright  world  on  liigh,  there 
were  delights  of  eternal  duration,  and  what  were  it  to  deny  one's 
self  little  gratifications  here  in  order  to  secure  great  imperishable 
ones,  in  the  world  beyond!  There  should  she  possess  in  superfluity 
what  the  soul  longed  for.  there,  it  might  perhaps  be  granted  to  her 
— bice  poor  Lazarus  for  the  rich  man— to  moisten  Gorgo's  lips. 

She  knew  now  what  answer  ^he  had  to  give  on  the  morrow;  and 
with  the  firm  resolve  to  put  far  from  her  the  request  to  sing  in  the 
temple  of  Isis,  she  found  slumber  and  repose  just  as  the  dawn  began 
to  biigblen  the  horizon  in  the  east.  She  awoke  late,  and  then  fol- 
loweci  Karnis  and  Orphens,  with  downcast  eyes,  and  firmly  closed 
lips,  to  the  house  of  Porphyrins. 


CHAPTER  VIU. 
TnK  steward  had  not  mentioned  Dada  to-day,  when  he  invited 
the  singers  to  Porphyrins'  house,  and  the  slighted  one  worried 
over  it  this  time.  The  dauirhter  of  that  old  corn-sack  said  she  is  u 
haughty  princess,  who  cares  for  other  ]ieople  only  just  so  far  as 
they  gratify  her  jiurposes.  If  slie  had  not  dreailed  lieimr  deenu'd 
intrusive,  she  would  liave  availed  liersclf  of  old  Damia's  inviinti  u 
to  viisit  her  often,  and,  despite  G<n-go's  neglect,  dropped,  like  a 
meteor,  into  the  middle  of  Porphyrins'  music-hall.     That  this  grand 


SERAPIS.  51 

young  lady  should  have  conceived  any  dislike  for  her,  did  not  enter 
into  her  mind;  for  it  was  possible  enough  that  a  poor  singing-girl 
might  hav«been  ovsrloolved,  but  who  had  over  met  her  in  other  than 
a  friendly  manner?  Nevertheless,  she  claimed  for  herself  the  right 
not  to  be  able  "  to  bear  "  lorphyrius'  proud  daughter,  and  just  as 
the  others  were  setting  oft,  she  called  out  to  Agnes:  "  You  need  not 
murder  her,  in  my  name,  but  neither  are  you  to  give  her  my  com- 
pliments! It  is  only  a  shame  thiit  1  am  condemned  to  stay  here  all 
alone  with  Rerse.  Do  not  be  surprised,  when  you  come  back,  to 
find  me  turned  into  a  stifi,  brown  mummy— we  are  here  in  Egypt 
for  that  to  be  sure.  I'll  will  you  my  old  gown,  my  dear;  tlie  rose- 
dress  you  would  not  put  on  as  yet.  If  you  mourn  for  me  very 
prettily,  I'll  appear  to  you  in  your  dreams,  and  put  sugar-plums 
into  your  mouth— ambrosial  ones,  such  as  the  gods  eat.  Why  you 
do  not  even  leave  me  the  boy  to  tease!" 

In  sooth  Agnes'  little  brother  had  been  neatly  dressed,  and  was 
to  accompany  the  party  to  Gorgo,  who  had  asked  to  see  hini. 

After  the  rest  had  left  the  ship  it  was  speedily  manifest  that 
Dada's  vexation  was  only  skin-deep;  for,  no  sooner  had  she  caught 
sight  of  the  cuirassier's  gray-bearded  father,  than  she  sprung  bare- 
footed (as  she  was  accustomed  to  go  in  the  house)  up  the  narrow 
snip's  stairs,  threw  herself  on  a  cushion,  shaded  by  a  linen  tent-cloth, 
leaned  over  the  deck-railing,  and  began  to  watch  all  that  was  going 
on  in  the  dock,  and  upon  the  road  running  along  the  shore.  Before 
time  had  commenced  to  hang  heavy  upon  her  hands,  her  new  tire- 
woman returned  from  paying  many  little  services  to  her  former 
mistress,  that  were  still  incumbent  upon  her.  She  crouched  down 
at  her  tVet,  and  begun  to  give  her  information  about  everything 
that  excited  her  interest.  The  fiist  questions  naturally  had  reference 
to  Gorgo.  This  young  lady,  as  she  heard  now.  had  already  rejected 
many  suitors,  belonging  to  the  first  families  of  the  city;  and  indeed  it 
Sachepris  the  slave,  spoke  correctly,  all  for  the  sake  of  the  old  mas- 
ter ship-builder's  sou.  with  whom  slie  had  grown  up,  and  who  was 
an  officer  in  the  emperor's  service.  But  this  attachment,  llie  maid 
tlionglit,  would  not  lead  to  a  union,  for  Constantine  was  a  zealous 
Christian,  and  his  family  immeasurably  superior  to  that  of 
Porphyrlus',  and  although  it  was  true  that  he  had  comeback  hnme, 
loaded  with  distinctions,  yet  Damia,  who  had  control  of  everything 
at  last,  entertainea  quite  diCTerent  views  for  her  grandchild. 

These  communications  excited  Dada's  sympathy  in  the  hishest 
degree,  but  she  followed  the  maid's  talk,  with  yet  greater  attention, 
■when  she  came  to  talk  of  ]\larcus,  his  mother,  and  brother.  The  old 
Eg3q)tian  was  Damia's  tool.  8lie  had  expected  to  be  questioned 
about  that  young  Christian,  and  no  sooner  had  Dada  uttered  his 
name,  than  she  glided  close  up  to  her,  laid  her  hand  softly  upou 
her  arm,  looked  up  at  her  with  glittering  eyes,  and  whispered  to 
her  liurriedly — for  Herse  was  not  within  earshot,  as  she  moved  to 
and  fro  between  her  cabin  and  the  deck— in  her  impure  Greek: 
"  Such  a  pretty  young  mistress,  to  be  kept  shut  up  like  a  poor  slave! 
It  mistress  w(mld  only  choose  it,  she  could  have  just  as  fine  a  time 
as  our  Gorgo,  easily,  just  as  easily  as  anything;  yes.  as  guod  times, 
and  better!    So  young,  so  lovely!    And  1  know  somebody,  whc 


52  SERAPIS. 

•would  like  to  set  my  benutiful  mistress  in  red  gold,  Ti-hite  pearls, 
and  precious  stones,  if  charming  Dada  would  onl}'  consent." 

"  And  wh}'  should  charming  Dada  not  couseiit?"  said  (lie  maid- 
en, mimicking  tier  maid  in  lively  manner.  "  Who  has  so  much 
to  bestow  upon  me?  You— 1  no  more  remember  your  name  than 
if  1  were  doul)le  as  old  as  j'our  lady  Damia. " 

"  Sachepris,  Sacliepris  is  my  name,"  answered  the  slave,  "  but, 
if  you  plmse  to,  call  me  anything  else.  The  gentleman  whom  1 
mean,  is  the  young  sou  of  the  rich  Maria.  A  handsome  man  is  J^Ir. 
l^Iarcus,  and  he  has  horses,  such  splendid  hoises,  and  gold  is  more 
plenty  with  him  thau  pel)b]es  heie  on  the  shore.  Sachepris  knows 
that  he  has  sent  slaves  abroad  now,  to  search  lor  pretty  mistress. 
Give  him  a  token,  write  to  Mr.  Marcus." 

"  Write?"  laughed  Dada.  "  At  my  home  girls  are  taught  other 
things;  but  it  1  could,  do  you  think  1  Avould  ao  such  a  thing? 
Write  to  him,  1  certainly  should  not!  It  any  one  wants  to  find  me, 
let  him  look  for  me!" 

"  He  is  looking,  he  is  looking  tor  you,  lieautitul  lady,"  asseverated 
the  waiting-maid,  "  and  he  is  full,  quite  full  of  you;  and  if  1  only 
dared—" 

"Well?"' 

"  Then  1  would  put  right  oft  and  say  to  Mr.  Marcus,  say  all  in 
secrecy — " 

"  V/hat?    Finish  your  speech!" 

"  In  the  first  place  1  would  tell  him  where  my  lovely  mi-stress  is 
staying,  and  then,  that  he  might  Lope — hope  I  should  say,  that  my 
most  beautiful  of  mistiesses  would  some  time,  tliis  evening  perhaps — 
it  is  not  tar  off— it  is  riglit  near  here.  Only  see  that  little  white 
house  over  there!  It  is  an  inn,  and  the  host  is  a  freedman  of  my 
noble  lady  Damia's,  and  for  money  wculd  keep  you  for  a  day,  a 
night,  for  several  days.  And  there  1  should  say — why  shouUl  1 
hold  ray  tontrue?  There  Mr.  Marcus  is  waiting  for  his  charming 
lady-love,  and  will  get  for  her  dresses,  compared  with  which  the 
rose-dress  is  but  a  beggar's  gown.  Then  you  will  get  gold— as  much 
gold  as  your  heart  can  desire.  1  will  guide  you  there'myself ,  where 
your  lover  will  receive  you  with  optn  arms." 

"  And  that  this  very  evening!"  cried  Dada,  the  blue  veins  swell- 
ing upon  her  forehead  and  temples.  "  Fy!  you  brown  serpent! 
Have  you  learned  such  arts  from  your  Miss  Gorgo?  How  shocking 
that  is!  fy,  fy,  how  Ijase  and  vile!" 

Marcus,  whom  she  had  taken  to  be  good  and  pure,  was  the  last 
person  from  whom  she  would  ever  have  expected  such  an  insulting 
proposition.  She  did  not  want  to  believe  all  that,  and  as  she  mot 
the  si}',  cunning  glance  of  the  Egyptian,  her  own  eye  flashed 
brightly,  and  with  a  decision  and  severity,  for  which  the  waiting- 
maid  would  never  have  given  her  ci edit,  she  exclaimed:  "  It  is  false, 
all  false!  Confess  it,  woman!  How  did  Marcus  get  to  you  yester- 
day, it  he  does  not  know  where  we  are?  You  are  silent,  you  will 
not  speak!  Oh,  now  1  understand  the  whole  thing!  He,  he  would 
never  have  dared  to  have  such  a  thought.  But  your  noble  lady 
Damia,  she  it  is  who  talks  through  you;  you  are  only  lier  echo,  and 
Marcus—     Ciuick,  this  minute,  confess  it  on  the  spot,  you  hag — " 

"  Sachepris  is  a  poor  old  hlave,"  begged  the  maid,  with  uplifted 


SERAPIS.  53 

hands.  "  Sacbepris  must  only  obey,  and  if  pretty  mistress  should 
betray  her  to  the  lady  Damia— ' ' 

'■  She,  she  it  was  who  invited  me  to  that  littJe  inn?" 

The  slave  nodded. 

"  And  Marcus?" 

"If  pretty  mistress  had  consented — " 

"Well?" 

"  Then —    But,  great  Isis!  if  you  shoiild  betray  a  poor  slavel" 

"  That  1  will  not  do.     Then  you  would  have  also—" 

"  1,  yes,  i  would  have  gone  to  young  Marcus,  and  in  your  name 
invited  him." 

"  Shameful!"  cried  Dada  to  the  Egyptian,  and  her  tender  limbs 
trembled  slightly.  "  How  wicked,  how  horrid  is  all  this!  But  as  tor 
you,  you  stay  here  only  until  the  rest  come  back,  when  I'll  pack 
you  home  to  your  old  mistress.  1  have,  the  gods  "be  thanlied,  two 
sound  hands,  and  need  no  waiting-maid.  But  there.  What  is  the 
meaning  of  that?  That  elegant  sedan-chair  has  stopped  here,  and 
the  old  gentleman  is  bowing'to  you." 

"  The  inteudant  of  the  noble  widow  Maria,"  whined  the  slave, 
but  Dada  turned  pale  and  asked  herself  what  business  a  messenger 
from  Marcus'  mother  could  have  here. 

Ilerse  too,  who,  for  Dada's  sake,  kept  a  continual  lookout  upon 
the  briilge  connecting  the  ship  with  the  shore,  had  seen  the  approach 
of  the  widow's  intendaut,  and  discerned  in  him  an  embassador  of 
love,  in  behalf  of  Marcus;  but  how  amazed  was  she  when  the  old 
man  politely  but  very  peremptorily  summoned  her  to  enter  the 
sedan-chair,' and  attend  him  to  his  mistress. 

Was  this  an  artifice?  Did  he  only  wish  to  entice  Herse  away  from 
the  ship  in  order  to  leave  the  coast  free  tor  his  young  master? 

But  no. 

He  had  handed  her  a  small  tablet,  and  upon  it  was  this  super- 
scription: "  Maria,  the  widow  of  Apelles,  to  the  wife  of  the  singer 
Karnis. "  This,  Herse,  being  an  Alexandrian  and  well  educated, 
could  read  fluently.  To  the  above  address  followed  the  same  urgent 
summons,  that  had  been  verbally  delivered  by  her  messenger.  To 
secure  herself  against  imposition,  she  beckoned  the  slave  aside,  and 
learned  that  the  steward  Phabis  was  a  trusty  old  retainer  of  tne 
widow.  No  deception  was  to  be  thought  of  in  this  case,  and  she 
was  obliged  to  accept  the  invitation.  This  disturbed  her  greatly, 
but  she  was  a  circumspect  woman,  heart,  mind,  and  mouth  in  the 
right  place,  and  quickly  apprehended  the  necessities  of  the  occasion. 
While  she  gave  her  outer  person  a  presentable  appearance,  she  handed 
over  to  the  Euyptiau  maid  (whom  she  had  taken  with  her  into  her 
chamber)  the  little  tablet,  ordering  her  to  convey  it  to  her  husband 
without  dela}',  to  tell  him  whither  she  had  gone,  and  to  request  him 
to  return  to  Dada  without  delay.  But  suppose  that  her  husband 
and  son  could  not  get  off?  Then  the  girl  would  be  left  all  alone  oa 
the  ship,  and  then!— Forthwith  before  the  eyes  of  her  motherly 
solicitude  appeared  Marcus  luring  Dada  away,  or,  if  the  young 
Christian  did  not  succeed  in  finding  out  her  abode  she  beheld  her 
niece  escaping  of  her  own  accord  and  strolling  about  on  Cauopiau 
Street  or  in  the  Bruchium,  where  at  noon  all  the  fashion  and  frivol- 
ity of  Ale.xandria  had  its  rendezvous.  She  saw,  shuddered,  pondered. 


54  SEIIAPIS. 

nnd  suddenly  an  expedient  occurred  to  lier  tliiit  promised  to  meet 
the  (lilllculty.  It  ^v;ls  not  new,  and  a  iavorito  one  among  E.iry()lians. 
81ie  had  seen  it  resorted  to  by  the  lame  tailor  wlio  had  been  her 
father's  tenant,  when  he  had  to  ^^ait  upon  his  cvistomeia  at  their 
homes,  and  leave  his  youn^  wite  at  home. 

Dada  lay  bartfooted  upon  deck,  llerse  was  going  to  hide  her 
shoes. 

This  she  proceeded  to  do  with  flying  fingers,  and  lodged  up  in 
their  one  trunk  saved,  not  only  the  sandals  of  the  blonde,  but 
Agnes'  also  and  her  own.  A  glance  at  the  hem  of  the  Egyptian 
slave's  robe  convinced  her  that  hers  could  not  be  rendered  available. 

"  Though  a  fire  should  break  out  here,"  thought  she,  "  my  Dada 
would  not  go  out  upon  tlie  street  with  her  prettj' little  feet  deformed 
by  such  huge,  clumsy  coverings  as  those  tlungs  there." 

Alter  this  task  had  been  accomplished  llerse  breathed  more  freely 
and  proceeded  to  take  leave  of  her  niece.  Because,  however,  she 
felt  that  she  had  to  make  up  to  her  for  something,  she  addressed 
her  in  a  peculiaily  endearing  manner:  "  Farewell,  child,  I  hope  the 
time  will  not  seem  long  to  ycu.  There  is  a  great  deal  to  be  seen 
here,  and  the  rest  will  soon  be  back  again.  This  evening,  if  the 
town  is  not  too  riotous,  we  shall  all  ride  together  to  Canopian  Street 
and  eat  oysters.     I'll  see  you  soon  again,  my  darling!" 

So  saying,  she  gave  her  a  kiss,  and  the  maiden  looked  up  in  sur- 
prise, for  her  foster-mother  was  usually  sparing  of  such  demon- 
strations of  affection. 

Soon  Dada  found  herself  quite  alone  on  the  ship,  and  lor  diver- 
sion nibbled  at  some  candy  while  she  kept  herself  cool  waving  her 
new  fan.  At  the  same  time  her  thoughts  tlwelt  continually  upon 
the  shameful  plot  devised  against  her  by  old  Damia;  and  while  it 
delighted  her  that  she  had  not  fallen  into  the  snare,  but  penetrated 
its  design,  her  wrath  kept  increasing  against  the  unworthy  old 
woman  and  Gorgo,  whom  she  could  not  dissociate  from  tier.  I3e- 
tween  whiles  she  would  look  out,  sometimes  for  Marcus,  sometimes 
for  the  cuirassier.  Tliat  it  had  been  impossible  for  her  to  attribute 
evil  to  the  young  Christian,  and  that  she  could  not  help  trusting 
him  implicitly,  endeared  him  to  her  peculiarly ;  but  she  was  curious 
also  about  the  prefect,  the  youthful  love  of  the  proud  merchant's 
daughter.  Meanwhile  time  slipped  by,  the  sun  rose  higher  in  the 
sky;  looking  abroad,  fault-finding  and  dreaming  wearied  her,  and 
yawning,  she  began  to  consider  whether  she  should  stretch  herself 
out  at  full-length  for  a  nap  or  go  below,  and  for  pastime  once  more 
try  on  the  new  rose-dress.  But  her  balancing  between  the  two  came 
to  naught,  for,  in  the  first  place,  the  slave  came  bacic  from  her  walk 
and  immediately  afterward  she  saw  the  cuirassier  approaching  the 
lake  through  the  dock.  Hereupon  she  quickly  drew  herself  up, 
adjusted  the  crescent  surmounting  her  curly  locks,  and  waveil  him 
a  graceful  salute  with  her  fan. 

The  prefect  of  cavalry  who  knew  from  earlier  times  that  the  ship 
was  made  use  of  for  furnishing  accommodation  to  Porphyrins' 
guests,  and  had  heard  nothing  in  his  father's  house  of  its  present 
occupants,  ])owed  low  before  the  beauty  on  the  deck,  making  her 
reventially  the  military  salute.  Dada  graciously  acknowledged  it; 
but  this  new  accpiaintance  seemed  to  be  brought  speedily  to  an  end, 


SEKAPIS.  00 

for  the  soldier  walked  on  without  lookintr  arounri.  His  appearance 
today  was  more  striking  than  on  yesterdaj'.  His  hair  was  lieshly 
curled  and  oiled.  Lis  cuirass  and  helmet  slione  with  such  lustei,  and 
the  crimson  stuft  of  his  coat  was  so  new  and  splendid  that  they 
could  not  have  been  more  so,  if  he  had  been  about  to  present  him- 
self before  tlie  throne  of  the  emperoi.  The  merchant's  daughter 
had  not  shown  poor  taste,  but  her  friend  seemed  to  hold  his  head 
as  high  as  she  did  herself,  it  charmed  Dada  to  make  bis  acquaint- 
ance  and  see  if  he  actually  had  no  eyes  for  anybody  else  save  Gorgo. 
Tlie  opposite,  little  as  she  concerned  herself  with  him  otherwise, 
would  have  given  her  great  sati.sfaclion,  and  she  determined  to  put 
him  to  the  test.  No  time  was  to  be  lost,  and  as  she  knew  there 
would  be  impropriety  in  her  calling  to  him,  she  yielded  to  the  sud- 
den iminilse  and  tliiet\'  the  pretty  fan  into  the  water  which  had  just 
be(  u  ptesented  to  her  the  day  bc-tore.  As  she  did  so  she  uttered  a 
shriek,  m  which  fright  and  coucern  blended  in  the  most  natural 
m  inner  possible. 

Her  ruse  succeeded.  The  otficer  turned  around,  his  eyes  met 
lieis,  and  now  Dada  bent  far  over  the  parapet  of  the  ship,  pointed  to 
the  mirror  of  the  lake,  and  called  out  disconsolately:  "  It  has  fallen 
into  th    water!     Ob,  my  fan!" 

Again  tlie  officer  made  a  slight  bow.  Then  he  left  the  road  and 
came  to  the  shore,  while  Dada  continued  her  exclamations  in  a 
quieter  manner:  '"There!  There!  If  you  only  would!  1  would 
like  to  get  my  pretty  fan  again  so  much!  See,  only  see  how  oblig- 
ing he  fs!     There  it  is  swimming  straight  up  to  you." 

Coustantiue  the  prefect  had  soon  picked  up  the  fan,  which  he 
shook  dry  as  he  crossed  over  to  the  ship. 

She  received  ihe  fan  joyfully,  strolied  smooth  its  wet  featheis, 
and  thanked  him  who  had  rescued  it  with  warmth  and  aninuitiou; 
but  he  assured  her  that  he  only  wished  the  service  done  her  had 
been  a  greater  one.  Then  he  would  have  withdrawn,  bowing  in  as 
formal  a  manner  as  he  had  done  before,  but  he  was  detained  in  a 
way  that  v.'as  quite  unexpected,  for  the  Egyptian  slave  stepped  in 
his  way,  kissed  the  hem' of  his  coat  and  cried:  "What  joy  for 
father,'  mother,  and  poor  Sachepris!  Mr.  Coustanline  is  at  home 
again!" 

"  Yes,  home  again,  at  last!"  returned  the  soldier  with  a  deep, 
resonant  voice.  "Your  old  mistress  holds  her  own  bravely.  That 
is  right.     1  am  on  my  way  now  to  call  on  the  rest." 

"They  know  already  that  you  are  here,"  replied  the  slave. 
"  Great  joy  ari.ong  them  all.  Have  asked  if  Mr.  Constautine  had 
forgotten  his  old  friends." 

"  Not  one,  not  one." 

"And  how  long  has  it  been  since  Mr.  Constantine  went  away? 
Two  years,  no,  three  whole  ones,  andyel  not  one  bit  chanced.  Only 
that  scar  over  the  eye!  Withered  be  the  hand  of  the  viilaiu  who 
put  it  there." 

Dada  had  long  ago  remarked  upon  the  broad  sword-cut  which 
furrowed  the  whole  brow  of  the  soldier,  so  far  a3  it  might  be  seen 
beneath  his  helmet,  and  now  interrupted  the  sluve:  "  How  can  you 
men  delight  in  hewing  and  slashing  at  one  another  so?  Only  think, 
if  that  thrust  had  gone  just  one  hnger's- width  deeper  you  would  have 


56  SERAPIS. 

lost,  your  eye,  and  then  raUicr  died  than  be  blind.  To  be  able  to  see 
notliing  with  light  all  around,  how  dieadtul  that  must  be!  The 
eartli  I  hen  would  he  in  darkuess.  you  could  distinguish  nothing  any 
more,  neither  the  lake,  nor  llie  ship,  not  even  nie  liere. " 

"  That  would  he  a  pity,"  interposed  the  prefect,  shrugging  his 
shoulders  while  he  smiled. 

"  A  pity!"  cried  Dada.  "  That  sounds  like  nothing;  the  expression 
should  be  a  much  stronger  one,  1  ehould  think.  It  is  dull  and  tiie- 
s(une  enough  sometimes  with  two  open  eyes,  wliat  n)ust  it  he  then 
if  they  refuse  to  perform  their  otliee,  and  one  can  not  be  diverted  V)y 
seeing  what  is  goinsr  on  in  the  world  aroimdV  Do  you  know,  sir, 
that  you  have  not  merely  done  me  one  favor,  but  two  at  one  and 
the  same  time?" 

"1?"  asked  the  prefect  of  cavalry. 

"  Yes,  you.  But  the  second  one  is  not  complete  yet.  And  now 
pray,  take  a  seat  for  a  little  while.  You  must  know  that  it  takes 
away  one's  sense  of  repose  it  a  visitor  noes  not  seal  himself  before 
he  takes  his  leave.  There,  that  is  right,  and  now  1  should  like  to 
ask  you  it  you  do  not  keep  that  helmet  on  your  head,  in  battle  more 
especially.  Y'es?  Well,  then  how  did  that  swoid-cut  leach  your 
forehead?" 

"  In  a  close  fight,"  answered  the  warrior,  "  things  do  not  always 
keep  their  right  places.  One  man  gave  me  a  blow  aside  of  my 
helmet  while  another  cut  at  me  from  the  front." 

"  And  where  did  that  happen?" 

"  At  Savus,  where  we  fought  ]\Iaximus." 

"  And  did  3'ou  wear  that  very  helmet  on  your  head?" 

"  Yes,  indeed." 

"  Oh,  give  it  here,  and  let  me  look  at  it?  Ilovv  heavy  such  a 
thinu  must,  be  with  its  iron  hasps!" 

Hereupon  Constantine  patiently  took  it  off  his  head  and  handed 
it  to  her.  She  dandled  it  about  in  her  little  hands,  tound  its  weight 
unbearable,  and  then  lifted  il  up,  to  put  it  on  top  of  her  own  curly 
locks;  but  this  did  not  seem  to  please  the  warrior,  and  with  a  curt 
"1  pray  you,"  he  look  the  helmet  out  of  her  hands,  set  it  down, 
and  rose  up  to  go. 

Then  Dada  made  an  animated  gesture,  motioning  him  to  remain 
seated.  "  No,  no,  1  am  not  satisfied  with  your  second  service 
rendered.  1  was  about  to  expire  of  loneliness  when  you  appeared 
in  the  very  nick  of  time,  and  if  you  would  finish  your  work  of 
charity  you  must  tell  me  something  aboui  that  battle,  where  you 
trot  your  wound,  and  who  nursed  you,  and  whether  the  Pannonian 
women  are  really  so  beautiful  as  reported." 

"  Alas!  time  fails  me  to  do  all  that,"  Interposed  the  prefect,  "  and 
as  for  time  hanging  heavy  upon  your  hands,  Sachej^ris  there  can 
help  you  to  pass  it  away  tar  more  cleverly  tlian  1  can,  at  least;  I 
know  her  of  old  as  being  excellent  at  story-telling.  A  pleasant  day 
to  you!" 

"\Vith  this  parting  salutation  Constantine  withdrew,  nor,  as  he 
advanced  in  Porphyrins'  garden,  did  he  look  around  even  once  at 
the  ship  or  its  lovely  occupant. 

Mucli  mortified,  Dada  looked  after  him,  her  cheeks  suffused  with 
blushes.     She  had  again  done  soinelhiug  ot  which  she  well  knew 


SERAPIS.  57 

Herf3e  would  disapprove,  and,  what  was  much  more  painful  to  her, 
Agnes  likewise.  The  stranger  with  whom  she  had  tried  to  llirt 
was  a  worthy  man.  Goigo  had  reason  to  he  proud  ot  such  a  lover, 
and  now  if  he  should  go  off,  and  probably  finding  her  out  of  sorts, 
should  tell  her  that  he  had  been  detained  against  his  will  by  tlia^ 
bold  public  singer,  whom  could  she  blame  but  lierself  ?  She  had  a 
feeling  as  though  there  was  something  in  and  about  her  that  made 
her  seem  worse  than  she  was  and  wanted  to  be.  Agnes,  Marcus, 
the  prefect,  and  Gorgo,  too,  were  something  higher,  nobler  than 
herself  and  hers,  and  for  the  first  time  she  felt  that  the  dangers, 
before  which  the  young  Christian  had  desired  to  protect  her,  were 
no  mere  chimeras  of  the  brain.  She  could  not  desisrnate  tliem  by 
name,  but  she  felt  that,  without  prop  and  support,  without  weapons 
against  the  foolish  impulses  of  her  own  soul,  she  would  flutter 
through  the  hours,  from  one  undertaking  to  another,  like  a  leaf 
driven  l)efore  the  wind,  and  she  said  to  herself  that  everybody,  just 
because  she  and  her  family  were  professional  singers,  distruated 
her,  and  look  the  liberty  of  suspectiuir  her  of  what  was  disgraceful. 
She  could  not  help  quarreling  a  little  with  the  destiny  of  herself  and 
family,  while  there  came  over  her  a  nameless  longing  after  a  new 
and  nobler  life. 

Silently  she  sat  lost  in  thought,  with  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the 
water,  although  she  saw  nothing  of  all  thai  was  passing  around  her, 
until  the  slave  came  running  up  and  pointed  out  to  her  a  carriage 
thai  had  stood  still  at  the  street  which  separated  the  hedge  of  the 
temple  of  Isis  from  the  dock,  and  in  which  the  Egyptian  main- 
tained that  she  again  recognized  a  pair  of  Marcus'  horses. 

Hereupon  Dada  jumped  up  quickly,  and  with  glowing  cheeks 
ran  down  into  the  cabm  to  get  her  shoes;  but  everything  in  the 
shape  ot  a  sandal  had  vanished,  and  flerse  had  done  well  to  take 
the  Egyptian's  toot-gear  into  consideration,  for  the  maiden  was 
driven  at  last  to  do  the  same,  and  would  not  have  been  ashamed 
to  make  use  of  her  shoes  if  they  bad  not  been  so  huge  and  ill-shapen, 

Ilerse  had  played  her  this  trick,  and  it  was  easy  to  read  with 
what  end  in  view.  In  order  to  put  her  off  her  guard  the  false 
woman  had  put  on  all  that  show  of  tenderness.  Such  deceitful- 
ness  was  base  and  treacherous.  And  she  had  heretofore  submitted 
to  all  this  as  rreekly  as  a  lamb,  but  this,  this  was  too  much,  and 
not  to  be  endured. 

Now  the  slave  came  into  her  chamber  and  summoned  her  upon 
deck.  Ihere  a  new  visitor  had  presented  himself  in  the  person  of 
an  old  acquaintance  and  fellow-traveler,  Demetrius,  Marcus'  elder 
brother. 

At  any  other  time  the  agriculturist  would  have  met  with  a  friend- 
ly reception  as  a  consoler  in  her  solitude,  but  he  had  selected  an 
unlucky  hour  for  his  visit  and  project,  as  he  might  have  conjectured 
from  the  girl's  flushed  cheeks  and  moist  eyes. 

He  had  come— cost  what  it  would— to  take  her  with  him  to  his 
estate  at  Arsinoa  on  the  sea  coast.  The  po.9sessinn  of  the  fair  maiden 
had  little  fascination  for  him,  but  he  had  a  keen  desire,  yes,  he  held 
it  to  be  his  duty  to  redeem  his  inexperienced  brother  from  tlie  perils 
into  which  his  silly  infatuation  for  this  singing-girl  threatened  to 
plunge  him. 


58  SERAPIS. 

A  purse  full  of  gold  pieces  and  a  necklace  of  turquoises  and 
rtianiDiids  were  to  be  his  coadjutors  in  this  scheme.  lie  hud  bought 
th(>  l;ittiT  in  tlic  jewelry  bazaar  in  the  Jew  (piarteis  for  a  sum  that  he 
had  ahcady  several  limes  wratlifully  com  muled  into  a  shipload  of 
corn  and  a  whole  cellar  full  ot  wine  and  oil.  I'he  farmer  moved 
clumsily  siraiirht  up  to  his  mark,  inviting  tlie  maiden  simpi}'^  and 
bluntly  to  forsake  her  protectors  and  follow  him  to  Arsinoy. 

When  she  asked  him  in  surprise  wl:at  to  do  there,  he  replied  that 
he  stood  in  need  of  a  jolly  companion.  He  liked  her,  and  if  he 
dared  not  flatter  him?elt  with  having  heretotore  found  favor  in  her 
eyes  he  liad  brought  something  with  him  that  might  sue  succes-s- 
fully  in  his  behalf,  and  somethinii  else  that  might  lielp  him  to  win 
a  smile  from  her.  lie  was  no  curmudgeon,  and  if  slit  liked  this 
and  that — so  saying  he  S|u-ead  out  the  glittering  chain  and  laid  the 
full  purse  upiiu  the  cushion,  then  she  might  consider  it  as  payment 
upon  account,  and  calculate  upon  more  if  her  pocket  was  deep. 

Dada  did  not  interrupt  him,  for  the  indignation  that  more  and 
more  overmastered  her  took  her  breath  away.  Ihis  new  humilia- 
tion overstepped  all  the  limits  of  the  endurable,  and  when  at  last 
she  had  recovered  the  power  to  speak  and  act  she  threw  the  purse 
from  her  cushion,  and  after  it  had  fallen  clinking  to  the  floor  kicked 
it  further  away  with  her  bare  toot,  as  though  it  had  been  tainted 
■with  plague.  Then  she  planted  herself  right  in  front  of  the  farmer, 
and  called  out,  "  Shame  upon  you  all!  lou  believe  because  i  am 
u  poor  girl,  a  singer  by  profession,  and  because  you  have  dirty 
gold —  Your  brother  Marcus  would  not  have  done  so,  assuredly 
not!  But  yoti,  you  horrid  boor!  If  you  ever  again  dare  to  set  foot 
on  this  ship  Karnis  and  Orpheus  shall  hunt  you  down  like  a  mur 
derer  or  thief.  Eternal  gods!  what,  what  have  1  done  to  muke 
everybody  think  nie  bad?    Eternal  gods — " 

Hereupon  she  broke  out  into  loud  and  convulsive  sobbing,  and 
rushed  up  to  the  steps  that  led  into  the  lower  part  of  the  ship. 

Demetrius  called  after  her  in  soothing  words,  but  she  would  not 
heed  him. 

Then  he  sent  down  the  slave  to  implore  her  to  give  him  a  hear- 
ing, but  this  only  brought  him  an  order  to  leave  the  ship  forthwith. 

Then  he  obeyed,  and  as  he  picked  up  the  purse  iy3  thought:  1 
could  get  backthat  granary  full  of  corn  and  that  wine-ship,  but  I 
would  throw  away  four  more  besides  it  1  could  undo  this  miserable 
husiness.  H  one  were  wortliier  and  better  one's  self  one  would  not 
be  half  as  apt  to  accuse  others  of  being  base  and  dishonorable. 


C  a  AFTER  IX. 
The  city  of  Alexandria  was  stirred  to  its  very  depths.  There 
■were  plottings  by  Christians  and  heathen,  conflicts  between  the  two, 
and  interference  of  armed  force  in  bloody  cpiarrels,  going  on  trom 
morning  till  night  at  the  centers  of  political  life;  but,  as  when  a 
house  f'ncounlers  the  severest  strokes  of  destiny,  afterward  as  .veil 
as  before,  the  little  details  of  every-day  lite  must  be  attended  to,  as 
children,  tor  instance,  continue  (heir  plays  when  their  father  lies 
upon  his  death-bed,  thus,  in  the  excited  and  imperiled  condition  ot 


SERAPIS.  59 

the  sreat  cily,  the  little  interests  of  individual  life  maintained  their 
rights. 

True,  the  stream  of  pleasure  and  traffic  met  with  manj-^  an  ob- 
struction, but  still  it  flowed  on.  The  doctor  visited  his  patients; 
convalescents,  with  the  aid  of  a  friendly  hand,  made  a  first  eflort  to 
loiter  out  of  the  sick-chamber  into  the  diuing-hall,  and  alms  weio 
both  given  and  taken.  Hatred  spread  herself  everywhere,  but  love, 
too,  stood  her  ground,  strengthening  old,  and  forming  new  ties. 
Care  and  anxiety  pressed  upon  thousands,  while  others  sought  to 
draw  profit  from  the  general  unrest,  and  as  many  more  went  forth, 
wiih  light  heart,  on  a  seaich  after  pleasiu'e  and  enjoyment.  Horses 
wero  exercised  in  the  hippodrome,  and  in  the  Canopian  suminer- 
lioijses,  there  were  entertainments,  music,  and  laughter  in  plenty  ;  in 
the  popular  gardens,  encircling  the  Paneum,  they  wagered  rudily 
gold  oi  filttiy  copper  at  cock  or  quail  figlits.  So  the  child  sits,  and 
from  the  roof  of  his  father's  house,  which  still  peeps  forth  abo'^e 
the  flood  that  has  swallowed  up  the  whole  village,  he  launches  his 
toy-boat  upon  the  treacherous  element;  so  tlie  boy  lets  his  gay- 
colored  kite  mount  up  to  the  sky  whence  black  clouds  are  threaten- 
ing to  burst  in  fury;  so  the  okf  n:au  counts  up  the  savings  of  a 
lile-lime,  even  wliile  the  bony  hand  of  death  is  clutching  at  his 
lieart-slrinjis;  so  dances  merry  youth  upon  the  quaking;  ground  at 
the  base  of  a  volcano. 

Who  troubles  himself  about  the  whole? 

Each  man  has  his  own  individual  self  to  think  of  and  care  for. 
What  man  liimself  needs  and  desires— be  it  great  or  small — has  for 
hi  in  higher  significance  and  a  sweeter  charm  than  the  claims  of  the 
great  l)ody-politic  as  regards  which  he  is  no  more  than  a  tiny  drop 
of  blood,  or  an  eyelash. 

In  Porphyiius'  house  still  lingered  Olympius,  the  man  whose 
spirit  and  will  had  once  already  told  so  significantly  upon  tlie  fort- 
unes of  the  city,  and  for  a  nod  from  whom  halt  of  Alexandria 
tarried  even  now. 

The  merchant  and  his  family  shared  the  opinions  of  this  party 
chief  and  called  themselves  his  confederates;  but  among  them,  too, 
the  trivialities  of  life  held  sway,  and  Gorgo,  his  fellow-comhalant 
ui  the  strife  for  tlie  old  gods,  thought  only  with  divided  attention 
upon  the  great  cause  to  which  she  was  enthusiastically  attached, 
because  a  friend  of  her  youth,  from  whom  she  had  a  riLcht  to  ex- 
liect  a  visit,  stayed  aw^ay  longer  than  was  becoming. 

Yesterday  she  had  sung  "  The  Lament  of  Isis  "  witli  li«r  v.iiole 
soul,  and  eagerly  solicited  Agnes'  accompaniment;  but  !>Uhough 
to-day,  too,  she  was  excellently  in  voice,  yet  she  had  intetruoted  the 
song,  sometimes  upon  hearing  a  door  in  one  of  the  side-rooms  shut, 
or  loud  talking  in  the  garden;  then  again  rendered  a  passage  with 
so  much  less  true  sensibility  than  tlie  day  before,  that  I\!arnis  "vould 
gladly  have  felt  free  to  reprimand  her  sharply.  But  this  woi"d  not 
do,  and  so  he  gave  vent  to  his  dissatisfaction  by  whispering  «-o  his 
son: 

"  There  you  see  again  thai  tiie  most  astonishing  gifts  and  fflpa- 
l)ilities  avail  nothing  wliere  the  two  can  still  be  kept  apart,  v*?"'^ 
one  carries  on  art,  not  as  the  first  and  last  object  ot  existence  f**^ 
more  as  a  luxury  or  pastime." 


60  SERAPIS. 

Agnes  had  been  true  to  her  resolution,  but  declared  decidodl^y  that 
it  was  impossible  for  her  to  cross  the  threshold  of  the  temple  of  Isis, 
and  this  refusal  had  been  received  quietly,  and  without  serious  op- 
position. Gorgo's  request  lo  repeal  tiie  song  of  yesterday  with  her, 
slie  had  not  telt  able  to  decline,  for  all  pointed  to  her  being  excused 
from  participation  in  the  festival  of  that  goddess.  How  could  slie 
know  that  the  bearded  philosopher,  who  had  j'esterday  listened  a 
breathless  auditor  to  her  duet  with  Gorgo,  had  taiken  it  upor  him- 
self to  dissipate  her  objections,  and  persuade  her  to  yield? 

Olympius  laid  great  stiess  upon  her  co-operation,  for  all  the  at- 
tractions of  the  ancient  worship  were  to  be  combined  in  tlie  temple 
of  Isis,  and  the  more  imposing  and  brilliant  were  the  ceremonies  of 
the  coming  festivity,  the  higher  must  rise  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
liealhen,  which  was  evidently  to  be  put  to  a  severe  test  in  the  near 
future.  From  the  temple,  the  thousands  whose  hearts  were  devoted 
to  the  old  gods,  were  to  march  in  solemn  prDcession  to  the  prefect- 
ure, and  if  they  traversed  the  city  in  right  mood,  it  was  to  be  expcted 
that  everything  would  join  them,  not  dislinc;tly  .lewisli  or  Christian. 

Thus,  it  would  amount  to  a  proclamation  of  astonishing  magni- 
tude, and  show  Cynezius,  the  emperor's  legale,  how  the  majority 
of  the  citizens  were  minded,  and  wliat  would  be  the  import  of  push- 
ing matters  to  extremity,  and  laying  hands  on  the  chief  temple  of 
the  city. 

lie,  the  mighty  orator,  who  had  grown  gray  at  intellectual  work, 
deemed  it  mere  play  to  overcome  the  silly  scruples  of  a  capricious 
young  girl. 

As  the  storm  deals  with  a  light  cloud,  so  would  he  scatter  them  to 
the  winds  by  the  weight  of  his  arguments,  and  he  who  saw  con- 
trasted this  man  of  the  Jupiter-like  head  and  venerable  beard,  his 
thoughtful  brow  and  broad  chest— whence,  at  his  own  pleasure, 
gushed  a  stream  of  discourse,  either  of  sweet  persuasiveness  or  irre- 
sistible force — with  Agnes'  modest  and  maidenly  timiditj^,  could 
not  have  doubted  for  which  ot  the  two  victory  would  declare. 

Not  until  to-day  had  Olympius  found  tune  to  speak  at  length 
wilh  his  old  friend  Karnis,  and  while  the  girls  had  gone  into  tiie 
garden  to  show  little  Papias  the  swans  and  tame  gazelles,  he  seized 
the  opportunity  of  acquaintinii  himself  with  all  lliat  he  desired  to 
barn  about  the  young  Christian,  and  the  fortunes  of  the  minstrel  as 
well. 

Tlie  latter  felt  complunented  that  this  renowned  scholar,  the  head 
of  his  fellow-believers,  in  the  second  city  of  the  universe,  who  was 
clothed  with  the  ofBce  of  high-priest  of  Scrapis,  and  before  whose 
superior  powers  ot  mind  he  had  already  bowed  as  a  student,  should 
reiiu;mber  his  moiicst  person,  and  listeu  to  his  recital  of  the  manner 
in  which  he,  the  accomplished  son  of  a  rich  family,  had  come  to  be 
a  wandering  minstrel. 

Olympius  had  been  Karnis'  friend,  when,  at  the  high  school, 
instead  ot  the  latter's  applying  himself  cvholly  to  the  study  of  law 
in  obedience  to  his  fatlier's  wish,  he  had  devoted  himself  lo  the  study 
of  music,  wilh  all  zeal,  and  already  shone  !xs  singer,  player  on  the 
lute,  and  leader  of  heathen  choruses. 

'1  lie  tidings  of  his  father's  death  had  come  to  Karnis  while  still 
a  student  at  Al'^xandria.     Before  he  left  this  place,  then,  he  had 


SERAPIS.  61 

irarried  Ilcrse,  who  was  his  equal  neither  as  to  fortune  or  family, 
and  with  her  sailed  over  to  his  homeatTauromenium  in  tticily,  there 
to  enter  into  possession  ot  an  inheritance  whose  size  and  importance 
■v\ere  a  surprise  to  himself. 

In  Alexandria,  the  theater  had  been  a  tar  more  familiar  spot  to 
him  than  the  museum  and  the  high-school  ot  the  Serapeum.  As  an 
amateur  he  had  sung  there  in  choruses,  and  frequently  supplied 
the  place  of  their  leaders. 

In  earlier  days,  the  theater  of  his  native  city,  Tauromenium,  had 
been  widely  famed;  but  upon  his  return  home  he  had  found  it  re- 
duced to  a  melancholy  condition.  The  greater  part  of  the  inhabit 
ants  ot  this  gloiious  city  at  Mount  Etnas'  foot,  had  gone  over  to 
Christianity,  "and  with  them  the  rich  burghers,  at  whose  expense 
plays  had  been  put  on  the  boards,  and  choruses  supported.  Minor 
pieces  were  always  being  acted,  it  is  true,  but  singers  and  actors 
were  being  starved,  and  in  their  great,  beautiful  theater  no  more 
was  anything  broiight  before  the  public  at  all  worthy  of  its  past. 

That  cut  to  the  iieart  this  rich  young  friend  ot  music,  and  with 
the  stirring  activity  of  his  nature,  he  soon  managed  to  tind  fa- 
vorers ot  his  plan  among  those  of  his  fellow-citizens  who  had  re- 
mained loyal  to  the  old  gods  and  retained  a  taste  for  Grecia's  divine 
arts  of  miisic  and  poetry. 

The  theater  was  to  be  the  heathens'  rallying  point  of  antagonism 
to  Christians,  it  was  to  enter  into  rivalship  with  the  churches,  lure 
back  apostates,  and  strengthen  those  who  had  remained  true  to  their 
old  convictions.  From  the  stage  the  Greeks  of  Tauromenium  were 
to  be  reminded  of  the  might  of  its  old  divinities,  and  the  greatness 
of  its  past. 

To  this  end  was  it  necessary  to  rebuild  its  ruined  sanctuary,  and 
after  Karnis  had  advanced,  in  cash,  a  large  part  ot  the  required  ex- 
penditures, the  leadership  of  the  theater  was  intrusted  to  him. 

He  devoted  himself  heartily  to  this  task,  and  soon  brought  it  to 
pass  that  the  stage  of  Tauromenium  and  the  musical  entertainments 
m  the  Odeum  attracted  its  citizens,  and  were  spoken  of  far  and  near, 
on  account  of  their  artistic  perfection, 

Such  results  must  be  attained  by  great  sacrifices,  and  Karnis,  de- 
spite Herse's  remonstrances,  had  never  refused  to  make  fresh  ad- 
vances of  money,  when  the  failure  of  his  own  creation  was  at  stake. 

Thus  passed  some  twenty  years;  but  then  came  the  day  when  his 
rich  inheritance  was  exhausted;  the  time  speedily  ensued,  when  the 
Christian  communily  were  ready  to  sacrifice  everything  in  order  to 
give  the  death-blow  to  this  heathenish  stone  of  stumbling  in  their 
niidst.  Ottener  and  ottener,  during  the  performances,  bloody  con- 
liicts  occurred  between  the  Christians,  who  had  forced  an  entrance 
into  the  theater,  and  the  heathenish  spectators,  until  finally  came  a 
decree  from  the  Emperor  Theodosius,  prohibiting  the  presentation 
upon  the  stage  of  heathen  plaj'S  and  operas. 

The  theater  at  Tauromenium,  to  which  Karnis  had  partly  given, 
partly  lent,  his  whole  fortnne,  existed  no  longer,  and  the  money- 
lenders who  liad  advanced  sum  after  sum  for  the  maintenance  of  an 
art  still  in  a  flourishing  condition,  through  his  instrumentality,  he 
becoming  security,  now  sold  tor  debt  his  house  and  lands,  and 


62  SERAPIS. 

would  have  cast  him  into  prison,  it  he  had  not  evaded  this  disgrace 
by  (light. 

'Good  friends  had  so  aided  his  family  as  to  enable  them  to  follow 
him,  and  in  conilnnation  with  them,  he  bad  begun  his  journe)Mng3 
as  professional  singer.  Otlen  had  he  and  his  fared  right  hardly,  but 
he  had  always  managed  to  remain  true  to  art,  and  the  Olympic  gods. 

The  philosopluT  had  followed  all  this  narrative  witii  sympathy, 
and  many  a  token  of  approval,  and  when  Rarnis,  at  last,  brought  it 
to  a  close,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  Olympius  laid  his  hand  upon  his 
Bhoulder,  drew  him  up  close,  and  cried: 

"Bravo,  bravo,  old  fellow!  We  keep  true  to  the  same  good 
cause.  You  have  sacrificed  to  it  j'our  all,  as  1  have  mine,  'liut 
Ftill  we  need  not  despair.  If  we  conquer  here,  friends  will  lift  up 
their  heads  in  thousands  of  places.  The  cast  of  the  stars  last  night, 
and  the  appearance  of  this  morning's  sacrifice,  prognosticate  tre- 
mendous re  relations.  What  lies  prostrate  to-day  may  be  soaring  on 
powerful  wings  to-morrow.  All  omens  foretell  the  downfall  of 
what  is  greatest,  and  what  to  day  should  be  greater  than  Rome,  that 
ancient  oppressor  of  the  nations?  These  days  will  hardly  bring  the 
final  decision,  but  much,  of  deci)  eignificance  for  us,  depends  upon 
them.  1  have  dreamed  of  the  fall  of  the  empire  and  seen  emerge 
from  its  ruins  a  great  Grecian  kingdom,  standing  there  strong  and 
beautiful,  under  the  protection  of  the  Olympian  gods,  and  upon  the 
realization  of  this  dream  each  of  us  must  stake  our  all.  I'ou  have 
given  us  a  glorious  example  of  the  spirit  of  S3lf-sacrifice,  and  1  thank 
you  for  it,  in  tlie  name  of  all  sharers  of  our  sentmients;  yea,  of  the 
gods  themselves,  whom  1  serve!  The  most  pressing  duty  now  is  to 
avert  the  stroke  aimed  at  us  by  the  bishop's  hand  through  Cynezius. 
It  has  already  effected  the  downfall  of  the  costly  shrine  of  the 
Apameian  Jupiter.  If  the  legate  departs  without  having  accom- 
plished Ins  errand,  it  will  turn  the  scale  greatly,  very  greatly,  in  our 
favor.  Then  will  it  cease  to  be  madness  to  believe  in  ttie  viciorioua- 
ness  of  our  cause." 

"  Teach  us  to  hope  again!"  cried  the  ginger.  "  With  that  only 
much  is  won;  only  I  do  not  see  how  this  upheaval — " 

"  What  we  want  is  time,  and  in  this  way  it  is  gained,"  replied 
Olympius.  Everything  is  prepared,  but  nothing  readj'.  Alex- 
andria, Antioch  and  INeapolis  are  to  be  the  centers  of  the  revolt. 
The  great  Libanius  is  no  man  of  action,  but  he  consents  to  our 
plan.  No  lesser  a  person  than  Floreniius  has  taken  it  upon  himself 
to  electioneer  for  us  among  the  heathen  officers;  Messala  and  the 
ndghty  Goth  generals,  J  raiut  andGenerid,  are  ready  to  give  in  their 
adlierence  to  the  old  gods.  There  will  not  lack  leaders  for  our 
army — " 

"  For  out  army?"  queried  Karnis,  in  amazement.  "  Have  mat- 
ters gone  as  far  as  that?" 

*'  1  speak  of  the  army  of  the  future!"  cried  the  scholar,  with  en- 
thusiasm. "  It  numbers  not  a  man  as  yet,  but  hlready  it  consists  of 
many  legions.  The  nucleus  of  our  host  is  foimed  of  whatever  is 
strong  in  mind  and  body,  cultured  youth,  and  muscular  men.  Fly- 
ing, a  Maximus  had  gathered  together  tlie  army  that  deprived 
Gratian  of  both  throne  and  life,  and  came  within  a  hair's-breadiii  of 
slaying  Theodosiu?— and  what  was  he  but  an   ambitious   rebel? 


SERAPIS.  63 

What  lured  his  folln\vers  to  him  but  the  hope  ot  sharing  his  booty? 
But  we,  we,  enlist  them,  by  appeals  to  the  loftiest  ideas,  the  warm- 
est wishes  ot  the  heart,  and  as  the  prize  ot  victory  we  point  to  the 
ancient  faith,  the  old  treedom  ot  spirit,  the  old  beauty  ot  life.  As 
for  that  humanity,  about  which  the  Christians  prate,  that  i;a\idy 
patchwork  cover  of  disgusting  barbarism,  let  them  disfiguie  tlieir 
existence  with  if.  if  they  please;  but  we  are  Greeks,  as  such  be- 
come tlie  thinking  head  and  the  refined  and  delicately  sensitive 
sou!  of  the  universe.  The  edifice  of  state,  which  we  are  planning 
to  erect,  after  the  fall  ot  Theo*losius  and  the  Roman  Empire,  is  to 
be  Hellenic,  and  Hellenic  only.  The  only  natural  feeling  that  made 
the  Gieeks  strong  against  the  millions  of  Darius  and  Xerxes,  is  to 
take  possession  of  us  anew,  and  we  are  to  show  the  barbarians  from 
ourselves,  how  the  patrician  hinders  the  humble  man  from  reckon- 
ing himself  as  one  ol  his  illustrious  house.  The  Greek  gods,  Greek 
heroism,  Greek  arts  and  sciences,  will  rise  up  among  us  out  ot  the 
dust,  with  a  rapidity  proportioned  to  the  force  which  has  been  ex- 
erted to  hold  down  the  ivings  with  which  they  were  meant  to  i\y, 
and  must  soar  aloft  forever." 

"  1  feel  that  to  my  heart's  core,"  cried  Karnis.  "  My  old  blood 
again  finws  taster,  and  if  1  only  had  a  few  more  hundreds  of  tal- 
ents to  devote — " 

"Then  wouhl  you  give  them  all  for  our  new  Greek  empire," 
joyfully  interposed  Olympius. 

"And  like  you.  noble  man.  so  think  numberless  other  friends. 
What  glorious  Julian  would  have  accomplished,  had  not  murderers 
stretched  him  so  young  upon  his  bier,  we  shall  succeed  in,  for 
Kome— " 

"  Rome  is  still  all-powerful." 

"  Rome  is  a  Colossus,  cemented  together  out  of  a  thousand  blocks, 
and  among  these  there  are  a  hundred  and  more  who  are  hardly  kept 
in  place  by  the  crumbling  mortar,  and,  so  tar  as  themselves  arc  con- 
cerned, could  not,  too  soon,  be  dissevered  from  the  horrid  monster. 
Our  summons  shakes  them  loose,  and  they  will  rush  to  meet  us,  we 
selecting  the  best  ot  them  for  use.  Time— only  a  tew  months'  time, 
and  the  army  will  assemble  on  the  Campanian  plains  at  the  toot  of 
Vesuvius,  thronging  thither  by  land  and  by  sea.  Rome  voluntaril}'- 
opens  her  gates  to  us,  who  restore  to  her  her  ancient  gods;  the  sen- 
ate proclaims  the  emperor  deposed  and  the  republic  "bnru,  Theodo- 
sius  marches  forth  to  meet  us;  but  the  idea  for  which  we  rush  into 
the  field  dies  in  advance  of  us.  and  knocks  at  the  hearts  of  othcers 
and  soldiers,  who  gladly,  oh!  how  gladly,  would  sacrifice  to  the 
exalted  occupants  of  Olympus,  and  only  perforce  kiss  the  wounds 
of  the  crucified  Jew.  Tbey  desert  irom  the  Uibarum  which  led  Con- 
staatine  on  to  victory,  and  flock  over  to  our  banners,  and  these  ])an- 
ners  exist  already.  "These  have  been  prepared  in  this  city,  and  are 
well  concealed  in  the  house  ot  ApoUodore.  Exalted  demons  held 
them  out  to  my  pupil  Ammonius  when  he  lay  rapt  in  ecstasy,  feel- 
ing himself  one  with  God,  and  I  had  them  painted  from  his  design." 

"  And  what  do  they  represent?" 

"  The  bust  of  Serapis  with  the  modins  on  his  head.  It  is  inclosed 
within  a  circular  border,  on  which  are  to  be  seen  the  signs  of  the 
zodiac,  and  around  them  the  ima<;e8  ot  the  great  Olympian  gods. 


64  SERA  PIS. 

The  heart  of  our  jxod  is  llitit  ot  Zetis;  the  measure  of  grain  upon  liis 
head  represents  the  future  blessing  expected  by  tlie  hu.sl>au(lniiin. 
The  /oiliac  ])roniises  us  propitious  stars,  and  the  figures  which  form 
it  are  not  commonplace,  but  ricli  ia  beautiful  significance.  The 
twins  are  the  guides  of  the  mariner.  Castor  and  Pollux;  by  tlie 
lion  we  see  Hercules,  who  masters  him;  the  fish  are  dol'iliins,  the 
friends  of  music.  Upon  the  balance,  the  sciile  holding  the  cross 
springs  high  into  the  air,  and  the  other  is  weighed  down  with  I  lie 
laurel  ot  JPhusbus  Apollo,  and  the  tbunderbolt  of  Zeus.  In  short, 
our  standaid  will  unfold  all  ihat  is  dear  to  the  Greek,  and  that  fdls 
his  soul  with  reverence.  On  the  top  of  the  ensign  hovers  the 
iY//.r,  Willi  the  crown  of  victory.  Let  the  right  leaders  of  the 
movement  l)e  found  at  each  center,  and  then  will  the  banners  be 
forwarded,  and  with  them  arms  also  tor  the  country  peo}>le.  For 
each  province,  a  rallying  point  has  been  selected,  the  watchword  is 
fixed,  and  the  da}'  for  the  march  determined  upon." 

"And  they  dock  hither,"  broke  in  Karnis  upon  his  speech, 
"  and  1  and  ray  son  will  not  be  missing  from  their  midsl !  Oh, 
lovely  day,  oh,  great,  exalted  day!  flow  gladly  shall  i  die  if  I  may 
only  live  to  see  victims  smokimr  once  more  upon  T)egarlanfled  altars 
before  the  wide-open  gates  of  every  temple  in  the  taud  of  Greece, 
in  honor  of  the  OI_ympic  deities;  once  more  see  inspired  maidens  and 
young  men  form  in  Jine,  to  the  sound  of  Hellenic  ilutcs  and  lutes, 
and  unite  their  voices  in  chorus!  Then,  yes,  then  will  light  be  re- 
stored to  the  world,  then  will  life  again  meaa  enjoymeat,  and 
death,  taking  one's  leave  of  a  blessed  feast!" 

"  kTO,  so  shall  it  be!"  exclaimed  Olympius,  intoxicated  by  the 
loud  echo  of  his  own  enthusiasm,  and  he  pressed  the  singer's  hand. 
We  shall  again  pre'sent  life  to  the  Greeks,  and  teach  them  to  despise 
death  as  ot  old.  To  darken  existence,  and  seek  blisj  fulness  in 
death,  that  we  leave  to  those  barbarians,  the  Christiaas!  But  the 
ladies  have  finished  their  song  There  is  much  to  be  done  lo-day, 
and  the  first  thing  is  to  dissipate  the  scruples  of  your  refractory 
pupil." 

"  You  will  not  find  that  so  easy  a  task,  either,"  said  Karnis. 
"  Arsiuments  are  dull  weapons  wherewith  to  fight  women." 

"  Not  always,"  replied  the  philosopher.  "One  n^ust  only  know 
how  rightly  to  handle  his  sword!  Leave  me  to  deal  alone  with  the 
child.  Female  singers  here  have  died  out,  as  it  were;  we  liave 
already  tried  it  with  three,  but  they  were  all  badly  taught  and 
commonplace.  H  this  maiden  accompanies  Gorgo,  her  voice  wil". 
deeply  touch  men's  hearts.  We  need  inspired  multitudes,  and  she 
will  help  to  enthuse  them  for  us!" 

"  Weil,  well.  But  you  yourself,  Olympius,  who  are  the  soul  of 
the  gieal  revolution,  for  which  we  hope — you  ought  to  keep  aloof 
from  this  festival!  A  price  is  set  upon  j'our  heaii,  and  although 
Porphynus  does  protect  you,  yet  his  house  is  swarming  with  slaves. 
They  know  you,  and  should  one  of  them,  allured  by  the  golden 
bait—" 

"  They  will  not  betray  me,"  said  the  sage  smiling.  "  They  know 
that  Danna,  their  trray-liaired  nustress,  and  1  have  authority  over 
the  demons  of  the  upper  and  nether  spheres,  and  that  a  nod  from 
her  or  me  annihilates  them;  but  even  supposing  that  an  Ephiales 


SERAPIS.  65 

should  be  found  among  them,  a  leap  into  those  doors  there  saves 
me.  Dismiss  care,  my  triend,  ou  that  point;  oracle  and  star  both 
foretell  for  me  another  death  than  through  the  treachery  ot  a  slave!" 


CHAPTER  X. 

Olymptus  went  to  look  for  Agnes  in  the  garden  and  found  her  at 
the  brim  of  a  maible  lined  basin  of  water,  handing  her  little  Irother 
bread,  in  order  tnat  he  might  feed  the  swans. 

The  pliilosopher  greeted  her  iiiiuUy,  took  the  child  up  in  hia 
arms,  nnd  pointed  out  to  him  the  ball  that  bobbed  now  up,  now 
down,  in  unison  with  the  fountain's  jet. 

Papias  showed  no  fear  of  the  tall  man  with  his  venerable,  white 
beard,  for  out  of  his  clear  eyes  shone  a  mild  and  sunny  luster;  his 
voice,  too,  sounded  soft  and  sweet,  as  he  asked  him  whether  he, 
too,  had  a  ball,  and  knew  how  to  play  with  it  as  well  as  did  lie 
water  of  the  fountain. 

Papias  said  no  to  this,  whereupon  Olympius  turned  to  Agnes  and 
said: 

"  Get  the  boy  a  ball;  there  is  no  better  plaything,  Icr  play  ouf,ht  to 
be  a  graceful  movement,  tliat  is,  end  and  aim  to  itself.  Play  is  a 
child's  work,  and  the  ball  that  he  throws,  pursues,  catches,  shaipc-ns 
his  eye,  makes  his  body  supple,  and  teaches  him  a  twofold  lesson, 
that  man  must  put  in  practice,  at  every  stage  of  his  lite,  viz. :  to 
look  down  upon  the  earth,  and  then  direct  the  glance  upward." 

Agnes  thanked  him  by  an  approving  nod;  but  Olympius  set  llie 
boy  down  again  upon  the  ground,  and  sent  him  to  the  inclosure 
where  the  tame  gazelles  were  kept.  Then  he  went  straight  to  his 
point  and  said: 

"  1  hear  that  you  decline  to  sing  in  the  temple  of  Isis;  tliey  have 
taught  you  to  regard  as  an  evil  si)irit  that  goddess,  to  whom,  uever- 
theless,  many  good  men  turn  in  trustfulness;  but  do  you  know  wha/ 
she  typifies?" 

"No,"  replied  Agnes,  casting  down  her  eyes:  but  quickly  she 
raised  them  again  and  added  courageously:  "  And  1  do  not  wish 
to  know,  for  your  gods  are  not  mineT" 

"  Well,  well,  your  faith  diverges  from  ours  at  many  points;  but 
you  and  1,  methinks,  have  still  something  in  common.  We  both 
belong  to  the  number  ot  those  who  have  learned,  and  joyfully  ex- 
ercise that  '  looking  upward  '—there  tlie  ball  mounts  up  again. 
Do  you  know  that  ihere  are  many  men  tvho  believe  that  the  world 
had  its  origin  in  a  series  of  mechanical  processes,  and  that  there  is 
no  deity  who  guides,  guards,  and  adorns  the  existence  of  mankind';'" 

"  Ah,  yes!  1  have  been  compelled  to  hear  so  much  of  such  blas- 
phemous talk  at  Piome." 

"  And  it  has  run  oft  from  you  just  like  water  from  the  silver- 
white  plumage  of  yondei  swan,  who  has  been  diving,  and  now 
comes  up  to  the  surface,  Those  who  deny  the  being  of  God  have 
appeared  to  you  foolish,  perhaps  even  contemptible:  isn't  it  so?" 

"  1  have  only  pitied  them  from  the  l)ottom  ot  my  heart." 

"And  with  good  right.  You  are  an  orphan,  and  wliat  parentJ. 
are  to  iheir  child,  so  are  the  gods— that  is  divinity— for  all  that  ia 


66  SERAPIS. 

yclept  man.  lu  this,  GoTgo,  1,  and  many  others  whom  you  style 
htalben,  feel  ])reci?el3'  as  you  do;  but  you— have  you  asked  your 
8elt,  Why  you,  to  ■whom  life  has  brought  to  many  ills,  are  so  firmly 
l)orsuaded  that  there  is,  nevertheless,  a  benevolent  deity  who  regu- 
lates benignly  the  world  and  your  own  destiny?  In  short,  why  do 
you  believe  in  God?" 

"  1?"  asked  Agues,  looking  at  the  philosopher,  with  wonder  de- 
picted in  her  ej'e.  "  What  could  there  be  without  God?  You  put 
such  strange  questions:  all  that  1  see,  has  been  created  by  Our 
Father  in  Heaven." 

"  l>ut  there  are  some  born  blind  who  believe  in  Him." 

"  They  teel  him  even  as  1  see  Him." 

"  Say,  rather,  as  I  think  1  see  and  feel  Him.  But  1  think  that 
reason  has  a  right  to  put  to  the  test  what  the  soid  only  susjifcts,  and 
that  it  must  be  delightful  to  see  this  supposition  confirmed  by  well- 
weigl\ed  arguments  and  changed  into  certainty.  Have  you  hap- 
pened to  hear  ot  Plato  the  philosopher?" 

"  Yes,  Karnis  often  mentions  him  when  he  ia  conversing  with 
Orpheus  about  matteis  that  1  do  not  understand." 

"  Well,  this  same  Plato  has  with  reason  supplied  proof  for  the 
example  which  the  heart  can  solve  so  satisfactorily  for  itself  alone, 
Otdy  listen:  Suppose  you  were  to  stand  on  a  point  of  land  at  the 
entiance  of  a  harbor,  and  you  were  to  see  a  ship  approaching  from 
afar  oir,  which  carefully  avoided  all  shoals  and  came  in  a  straight 
line  to  the  protecting  roadstead,  would  you  not  be  justified  in  believ- 
ing that  there  was  a  steersman  on  tiuit  ship  guiiling  and  directing 
it?  Certainly.  You  not  only  may,  but  must,  agree  that  such  a 
vessel  is  directed  by  the  hand  of  a  pilot.  And  if  you  look  up  toward 
heaven,  and  observe  the  well-ordered  course  of  the  heavenly  bodies, 
if  you  see  how  all  upon  earth,  both  great  and  small,  follow  fixed 
and  ettrnal  laws,  move  undeviatingly  within  predelerminod  limits, 
then  again  you  may  and  must  believe  in  (he  hand  ot  the  steersman: 
and  who  other  than  Almighty  God  is  the  pilot  ot  the  universe? 
Does  my  similitude  please  you?" 

"  Very  much.  And  yet  it  only  confirms  what  1  knew  without 
that." 

"  And  yet,  methinks,  it  must  delight  you  to  find  your  convictions 
80  beautifully  established." 

"  Quite  assuredly." 

"  And  you  esteem  the  sase  who  thought  out  that  similitude? 
Yes?  Well,  then,  this  man  was  one  of  those  whom  }^ou  call  heathen, 
believed  as  I  do,  and  has  found  for  you,  too,  confirmation  of  the 
principles  upon  which  your  own  failh  is  iounded.  But  we,  Plato's 
more  modern  disciples,*  have  gone  further  than  he,  and  stand  in 
closer  proximity  to  you  Christians  than  you  are  apt  to  believe.  That 
we,  just  as  little  as  you,  can  conceive  of  the  existence  ot  the  world 
and  the  destiny  of  man,  apart  from  deity,  is  obvious  to  you.  And  yet 
you  are  equally  persuaded  that  your  divinity  :ind  ours  are  entirely 
different.     But  can  you  tell  me  in  what  that  Viiltereuce  consists?" 

"  1  do  not  know,"  answered  Agnes,  in  distress.     "  1  am  a  poor 

*  The  School  of  Philosophy  kuown  a.s  that  of  the  New  riatonists. 


SERAPIS.  67 

ignorant  girl:  and  ■who  can  even  remember  the  names  of  your  many 
gods?" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  continued  Olympius.  "  There  is  the  great  Serapis, 
whose  temple  you  saw  yesterday;  there  is  Apollo,  to  whom  Kurnis 
loves  best  to  sucritice;  there  should  be,  too,  the  triendly  Isis,  and  her 
sister  Nephthys,  whose  lament  you  sung  so  thrillingly  with  my 
young  friend;  and  besides  them  I  could  mention  so  many  immortals 
that  Gorgo,  who  is  leading  your  ]it;le  brother  tliere  to  the  lake, 
might  walk  backward  and  forward  ten  times  between  us  and  the 
snore  before  1  should  have  finished,  and  yet,  and  yet,  dear  child, 
our  deity  is  yours,  and  yours  ours." 

"  No,  no.  It  is  not!"  cried  Agnes,  with  growing  anguish. 

"Just  hear  me,"  continued  Olympius,  with  the  same  benignity 
as  ever,  but  surpassing  dignity;  "and  answer  my  questions  sin  ply 
and  candidly.  We  are  agreed  in  this,  too,  are  we  not,  that  you 
recognize  deity  in  the  works  of  creation,  and  also  in  the  workings  of 
your  oi\-n  inner  senses?  So  far,  good.  What  appearances  in  nature 
are  those  that  make  you  feel  peculiarly  sensible  of  its  nearness? 
You  are  silent,  are  you?  Yes,  yes,  the  young  lady  has  outgrown 
her  school-days,  and  needs  not  respond  to  the  questioning  of  her 
officious  tormentor. 

"  And  yet,  wliat  1  desire  to  hear  from  you  is  beautiful  and  dear 
to  your  hear!,  and  if  you  would  not  press  those  white  lips  so  firmly 
together,  but  rather  give  me  the  answer  for  which  1  entreated  you, 
then  you  would,  in  so  doing,  remind  yourself  of  much  that  is  high 
and  gloriou?.  You  would  tell  me  of  morning's  young  light,  of  tbe 
soft  blush  that  tinges  the  clouds  when  the  shining  orb  of  the  day- 
star  rises  out  of  the  sea.  You  would  say:  In  the  thousand  blossoms 
that  unfold  themselves  at  morn,  in  the  dew  that  they  drink  and 
that  decks  them  with  diamond-showers,  in  the  ripening  heads  of 
■wheat  in  the  fields,  m  the  swelling  fruit  on  the  trees -in  all  these  1 
recognize  ihe  ruling  power  of  deity.  I  feel  its  infinite  greiitncss 
when  the  inmieasurable  expanse  of  the  ocean  rolls  before  me  in  its 
wonderful  blueness.  1  feel  it  when  I  raise  my  eyes  by  night  and 
watch  the  course  in  the  sky  of  its  myriads  of  shining  stars.  Who  , 
has  created  ihem  in  such  inconceivable  numbers?  who  guides  them 
so  that  they  glide  by  one  another  in  exquisite  harmony,  movuig  to 
and  fro  in  well-measured  minutes  and  seconds,  silently  and  yet  full 
of  deep  significance,  at  immeasurable  distances,  and  yet  in  close  con- 
junction with  the  fate  of  the  individual  man?  Yes,  that,  all  that, 
bears  witness  to  the  existence  of  deity;  and  when  you  consider  and 
gratefully  wonder  at  it,  then  you  feel  yourself  close  to  the  Almighiy. 
Yet,  if  you  were  deaf  and  blind,  and  lay  imprisoned  and  fetlered 
within  the  gloomy  precincts  of  a  fast-locked  dungeon,  you  would 
feel  it  none  the  less  if  love,  pity,  or  hope  touched  your  heart.  But 
rejoice,  child!  The  celestials  have  endowed  you  with  fair  gifts,  and 
with  sound  senses  you  may  enjoy  the  beauty  of  all  creation.  You 
practice  an  art  that  links  j^ou  with  deity  a3  though  b}'  means  of  a 
bridge,  and  when  a  song  pours  forth  from  your  full  heart,  the 
divine  ilself  speaks  from  you;  when  you  hear  strains  of  noble 
musi«,  it  is  the  voice  of  divmity  itself  that  touches  your  ears,  lu 
and  around  you  is  traceable  power  from  on  high,  which  we  are  con- 
6C10U8  of  everywhere  and  at  every  hour.     And  this  immeasurable, 


68  SERA  PIS. 

infinite,  unlimited,  gracious,  and  nnfailinply  wise  power  which  per- 
meates and  conlrols  as  well  tlie  life  of  ihe  world  as  the  hearts  of 
men,  is  called  difleiently  by  dilTcrent  people,  ijiit  is  tlie  same  to  all 
nations,  wherever  they  dwell,  however  they  are  named,  or  whatever 
they  l)elievL'.  You  Christians  call  it  your  lleavenly  Father,  we  have 
|j:iv('a  it  the  name  of  the  Original.  Vour  God,  too,  speaks  to  you 
from  the  everlasting  sea,  the  waving  graintield,  and  the  pure  light 
of  lliesun;  }ou,  too,  call  his  gilts  music  that  lavishes  your  heart, 
and  ihe  sweet  love  that  attracts  man  to  man;  but  we  go  a  step  fur- 
ther and  bestow  upon  every  fippearance  in  nature,  and  every  exalted 
impulse  of  the  heart,  in  which  we  recognize  the  immediate  agency 
of  the  Most  lligh,  especial  names,  and  thus  call  the  sea  Neptune, 
the  corn-fields  Ceres,  the  charm  of  music  Apollo,  and  the  delights 
of  love  Venus.  When  you  see  us  offering  sacritiee  before  a  marble 
statue,  you  must  not  think  that  our  devotion  is  paid  to  the  inanimate, 
perishable  stone.  Deity  comes  not  down  into  the  image,  but  the 
image  is  fashioned  after  the  itlea  which  the  deity  that  it  is  to  repre- 
sent personates,  and  through  this  idea  it  becomes  one  with  deity,  pre- 
cisely as  through  the  bond  of  spirit  everything  else  natural  is  linked 
■with  the  phenomena  of  the  supernatural  woild.  But  this  is  going 
too  far  for  you.  Let  it  suffice,  if  1  assure  you  that  the  statue  of 
Ceres,  with  the  sheaf  in  her  hand,  is  only  tor  the  purpose  of  remind- 
ing us  of  the  gratitiide  due  to  deity  tor  daily  bread  vouchsafed  us; 
a  song  of  praise  in  honor  of  Apollo  thanks  the  great  being  for  those 
wings  woven  out  ot  harmonies  upon  which  the  soul  mounts  upward 
imtil  it  feels  the  nearness  ot  the  jMost  High.  It  is  names,  only 
names,  that  part  us,  as  though  you  would  be  any  other  than  j'our- 
self  if  1  were  to  call  you  Ismene  or  Eudoxia.  And  now — no,  keep 
your  seat— now  you  must  hear  this  one  tbing  more,  viz:  that  Isis, 
the  much  abused  Isis,  is  nothing,  and  signifies  nothing,  but  the 
benevolent  agency  of  the  deity  in  nature  and  in  human  life.  M'hat 
ve  esteem  our  own  under  her,  vou  call  the  goodness  of  the  ]M()St 
Higli,  made  manifest  in  fiiendly  gifts,  whithersoever  we  turn.  The 
image  of  Isis  reminds  us  in  the  same  way  of  the  lavish  generosity  of 
the  Creator.as  the  cross,  the  fish,  and  the  Iamb  remind  you  of  Christ. 
Isis  is  the  earth,  out  of  whose  motherly  bosom  the  will  of  God 
makes  food  and  refreshment  flow  tor  man  and  beast:  she  is  the 
sweet  attachment  that  God  implants  in  the  hearts  of  lowers;  she  is 
that  tender  sentiment  that  unites  husband  and  M'ife,  brother  and 
sister;  that  imparts  bliss  to  the  mother  with  her  infant  at  her  breast, 
and  makes  her  willing  and  strong  to  undergo  any  sacrifice  for  the 
prelly  darling  to  whom  she  has  given  birth.  She  shines  as  a  star  in 
Ihe  firmament  by  night,  she  pours  consolation  into  suffering  hearts; 
she,  who  has  known  herself  the  torture  of  ungratified  longing,  cools 
the  fevered  brow  of  the  afflicted  and  forsaken,  and  cures  tiie  sick 
wiih  a  soft  and  healing  hand.  When  in  winter  and  days  of  drought 
nature  retu.«es  to  let  new  life  germinate;  when  light  is  obscured; 
when  falsehood  and  criminal  pleasures  estrange  the  soul  from  its 
])ure  source,  then  Isis  lifts  up  her  wail  and  calls  back  her  lost  hus- 
band Osiris  that  he  may  take  her  again  into  his  arms  and  fill  her 
will)  tresh  power  to  prove  God's  goodness  toward  the  earth  ann  its 
inhiibilants.  \on  have  heard  her'lament,  and  if  you  will  join  in  it 
at  her  festival,  fancy  yourself  standing  with  the  much-sutfering 


SERAPIS.  69 

mother  of  your  crucified  God  before  Eis  open  gepulcher,  beseeching 
Heiiven  to  let  him  rise  iioni  the  dead!" 

These  hist  words  Olyiupius  had  spoken  iu  high  excitement,  as 
though  he  were  sure  of  the  maiden's  assent;  but  their  effect  had 
been  exactly  the  opposite  of  what  he  had  expected;  for  while  Agnes 
had  listened  to  him  with  growing  embarrassment,  and  bowed  before 
his  arguments,  lilve  the  bird  whom  the  serpent's  gaze  fascinates  and 
attracts,  in  consequence  of  tlie  last  proposal  of  the  philosopher,  the 
spell  of  his  ensnaring  discourse  fell  from  her  likeaulumn  leaves  froni 
tlie  crown  of  a  tree  shaken  by  a  gust  of  wind;  for  they  immediately 
railed  up  before  her  her  Saviour  and  His  sutierings,  reminding  her 
too  of  the  spiritual  conflict  through  which  she  had  jjassed  the 
night  before,  and  of  the  resolution  witli  which  she  had  come  into 
Torphyriiis'  house.  Forgotten,  blown  away,  like  light  dust  from 
rocky  roads,  were  all  the  corrupting  propositions  which  she  had 
heard,  and  her  voice  sounded  firm  and  repellent  as  she  replied  lo 
the  philosopher:  "  Your  Isis  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  mother  of 
our  Lord,  and  how  can  you  compare  your  Osiris  with  Him  who 
hath  redeemed  the  world  from  death?" 

Surprised  at  llie  decided  manner  of  this  objection,  Olympius  got 
up  and  retorted  quickly,  and  as  if  he  had  anticipated  It:  "1  wili 
just  explain  that  to  you!  Osiris— we  put  him,  the  Egyptian  goci,  in 
place  of  our  Serapis,  in  whose  mysteries  you  would  find  much  that 
might  prove  exalting  even  to  a  Cliristian  heart— Osiris,  like  your 
master,  voluntarily  took  death  upon  himself  in  order  lo— again; 
just  like  Christ— redeem  the  world  from  destruction.  To  whatever 
is  extinct,  dead,  and  withered  away,  he,  the  resurrected  one,  restores 
new  life,  new  blossoming  and  fruitage.  Whatever  has  seemed  to 
be  given  up  imto  death,  he  awakens  to  a  fairer  existence.  Risen 
irom  the  dead  himself,  he  knows  how  to  bring  the  departed  soul  to 
resurrection;  and  if  it  ha£  kept  itself,  by  high  laieht,  above  the  be- 
fouling tilth  ot  tlie  sensual,  and  he,  the  judge,  finds  that  it  has  kept 
itself  worthy  of  its  pure  source,  tlien  he  allows  it  to  return  to  the 
eternal,  unclouded  world  of  pure  spirits,  whence  it  originated.  Do 
you  not  also  strive  after  purity,  in  order  that  your  soul  may  find  an 
everlasting  abode  in  the  realms  ot  light?  Again,  ever  again,  we 
meet  the  same  ideas,  only  bearing  difterent' shapes  and  names. 
Only  try  to  apprehend  rightly  the  meaning  of  my  discourse,  and 
you  will  gladly  join  in  that  pathetic  lament,  which  calls  back  the 
exalted  one.  How  much  he  resembles  your  master!  For,  like 
him,  is  he  not  one  risen  from  the  dead,  and  a  redeemer?  Whether 
temple  or  church,  both  are  the  tabernacles  of  deity.  At  the  ivy- 
crowned  altar  of  the  mourning  goddess,  at  the  foot  of  the  lofty 
cypresses,  that  cast  their  deep  and  pleasant  shadows  upon  the  snowy 
whiteness  of  the  marble  steps,  which  sustain  the  god's  bier,  you 
will  Irendjle  with  that  sacred  awe  which  seizes  upon  every  pure  soul 
the  moment  lliat  it  feels  conscious  of  the  presence  of  the  Godhead 
—call  it  what  you  will,  Isis,  whom  you  know  now,  and  who  is 
nothing  else  than  the  reflection  ot  divine  goodness,  will  understand 
Iiow  to  thank  yoa,  will  restore  to  you  that  perfect  freedom,  after 
which  you  pant.  She  will  give  to  you,  through  us,  introduction 
into  a  (Uirisiian  family,  in  recognition  of  the  service  that  j'ou  will 
have  rendered,  not  to  her,  but  to  laith  iu  divine  goodness.     There, 


70  SERA  PIS. 

with  your  little  brotbcr,  yon  may  live  free,  and  after  your  own 
heart's  desire.  To-morrow  you  will  attend  Gorgo  to  the  temple  of 
the  goddess-  -" 

Here  Aij;ncs  interrupted  the  philosopher,  crying  out,  "  But  1  &hall 
not  attend  her!" 

Iler  cheeks  had  become  flushed,  and  her  bosom  heaved  tumultu- 
ously,  while  she  continued: 

"  i  will  not.  1  dare  not.  1  can  not!  Do  with  me  what  j'ou  will. 
Sell  me  and  ray  brother;  let  us  turn  the  hand-mill;  1  do  not  sing  in 
that  temple!" 

Upon  this  exclamation,  Olympius  frowned,  and  his  bearded  lips 
tramed  an  angry  reply,  but  "he  restrained  himselt,  drew  nearer  to 
Agnes,  laid  his  'hand  upon  her  shoulder,  and  said,  with  the  deep 
measured  tones  ot  a  fatherly  adviser: 

"  Consider,  child;  think  well  over  all  that  you  have  heard  from 
me.  Take  to  heart,  too,  what  you  owe  to  that  dear  boy,  and  to- 
morrow give  lis  your  maturely-weighed  consent.  Your  hand,  my 
daughter;  old  Olympius  is  one  who  means  well  by  you!" 

So  saying,  he  turned  his  back  upon  Agnes,  and  returned  to  the 
house.  Betore  its  door  stood  the  singer  and  Porphyrins,  engnged 
in  animated  discussion.  Word  had  reached  Karnis  that  young  i\Iar- 
cus'  moth2r  had  sent  for  his  wife,  and  forthwith  his  lively  im- 
agination had  pictuied  Herse  encompassed  by  a  thousand  dangers, 
ttireatened  by  the  widow,  and  under  examination  before  judges. 
The  merchant  advised  him  to  await  the  issue,  as  also  did  Damia  and 
Gorgo.  who  had  been  attracted  hither  by  the  loud  talking  of  the 
men;  but  he  would  not  be  detained,  and  hurried  oil,  with  Orpheus 
following,  to  carry  help  to  his  wife. 

Agnes  was  left  behind,  alone  with  her  little  brother,  in  the  vast 
garden;  and  so  soon  as  slie found  that  no  one  was  paying  any  atten- 
tion to  her,  she  fell  upon  her  knees,  drew  the  boy  cfose  up  to  her, 
and  whispered  to  him:  "Pray  with  me,  Papias,  pray,  pray,  that 
the  Saviour  may  protect  us,  and  not  let  us  lose  the  way  that  leads 
us  back  to  our  parents.     Pray,  pray,  with  me,  now!" 

For  a  minute  she  and  the  boj'  remained  kneeling  on  the  ground. 
Then  she  got  up  suddenly,  took  the  child  by  the  hand,  and  with 
fleeting  bre'ath  drew  him  along  after  her  through  the  open  garden 
gate,  into  the  road  on  the  lake-shore,  thence  into  the  first  streel  lead- 
ing into  the  city. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Agnes'  flight  was  unnoticed  at  first,  for  each  member  of  the  mer- 
chant's family  was  particularly  engaged. 

After  the  singer's  departure,  Gorgo  had  stayed  a  long  while  with 
her  grandmother,  and  ai  last  repaired  to  the  colonnade  tronting  the 
garrten,  whence  was  an  outlook  upon  the  park  terraces  and  the 
beach  as  tar  as  the  dc^ck.  Tliere  she  leaned  against  the  shatt  of  a 
pillar,  and  trom  under  the  shadow  of  the  purple  flowering  shrub- 
bery gazed  earnestly  and  thoughtfully  forth  toward  the  south. 

She  thought  of  her  childhood,  its  privations  and  enjoyments. 

Fate  had  denied  her  a  mother's  love,  that  sunshine  of  life's  spring. 
Down  yonder  in  that  splendid  mausoleum  ot  dark  porphyry  rested 


SERAPIS.  71 

the  mortal  remains  of  the  beautiful  woman  to  whom  she  owed  her 
being,  and  who  had  been  snatched  away  fiom  her  ere  she  had  en- 
joyed her  titst  caress. 

But  round  about  that  gloomy  monument  lay  the  blooming  garden 
bathed  iu  sunshine;  and  there,  beyond  that  wall,  overgrown  with 
the  foliage  of  green  creepers,  was  the  dock,  that  scene  of  innumera- 
ble joyous  sports  to  her  as  a  child.  Sighing  deeply,  she  looked  at 
the  tall  hulks  of  the  ships  in  view,  and  tarried  for  the  man  to  whom 
her  heart  had  belonged  ever  since  its  awakening,  with  whose  image 
was  associated  everything  delightful  in  her  childhood,  as  well  as 
what  had  peiturbed  her  youthful  spiiit. 

Constantine,  the  youngest  sou  of  the  master  ship-builder,  Clement, 
had  been  the  fellow-student  and  most  intimate  friend  of  her  brother. 
He  had  excelled  them  both  in  mind  and  gifts,  and  naturally  become 
the  leader  in  their  games.  When  quite  a  little  thing,  she  had  run 
about  after  the  boys,  and  Constantine  had  always  been  patient  with, 
bi ought  out,  and  protected  her.  Afterward  the  time  had  come 
when  l)oth  he  and  his  brothers  sued  for  her  participation  in  their 
merrymakings.  When  her  grandmother  had  read  iu  the  stars  that 
evil  influences  crossed  the  course  of  her  granddaughter's  planet,  then 
Gorgo  was  carefullj^  shut  up  iu  the  house,  otherwise  she  had  been 
allowed  to  follow  the  boys  freely  in  the  garden,  on  the  lake  and  dock. 
There  ships  and  houses  had  been  built  by  the  happy  band:  there 
old  Melampus,  in  a  room  set  aside  for  the  purpose,  used  to  cut  out 
figure-heads  for  the  prows  of  the  finished  vessels,  and  would  give 
them  clay  and  let  them  help  him.  Constantine  was  his  apt  scholar; 
and  she  used  to  sit  still,  when  he  would  model  her  head;  and  among 
the  twenty  likenesses  which  he  made  of  her,  many  had  been  quite 
good. 

Melampus  decared  thai  the  young  gentleman  might  have  become 
a  great  sculptor  if  he  had  been  a  poor  man's  child;  and  Gorgo's 
lather  admired  his  talent,  and  was  pleased  when  the  lively  boy  tried 
to  copy  the  beautiful  busts  and  statues  in  his  house;  but  to  the  par- 
ents, and  especially  the  mother  of  the  young  artist,  these  attempts 
were  a  horror;  and  he  himself  never  seriously  entertained  the 
thought  of  devoting  himself  to  such  heathenish  work,  for  he  had 
fully  imbibed  the  Cnristian  spirit  of  his  house,  and  had  managed, : 
also,  to  fill  with  enthusiasm  for  the  faith  Porphyrins'  sons,  who 
had  early  received  baptism. 

The  nerchant  noted  this  well,  and  suffered  it  in  silence,  for  his 
boys  must  remain  Christians  in  order  to  retain  the  right  to  will  prop- 
erly; and  his  originally  noble,  but  rather  yielding  nature  revolted 
so  painfully  against  the  necessity  of  confessing  a  faith  that  was  hate- 
ful to  him,  that  he  would  gladly  spare  his  sous  this  pain,  and  so, 
with  a  bhrug  of  the  shoulder,  but  quiet  satisfaction,  he  saw  them 
follow  Constantine  to  church  and  wear  the  blue  color  of  the  Chris- 
tians at  races  and  public  spectacles. 

With  Gorgo  the  case  was  different.  tShe  was  a  woman,  and  had 
no  call  to  show  her  color's  in  life;  and  it  made  her  father  happy  to 
see  her  share  his  own  enthusiasm  for  the  old  gods,  and  his  Greek- 
like views  of  the  world.  She  was  the  ornament  of  his  life;  and 
when  he  heard  ringing  in  his  ears  from  her  juvenile  prattle,  and 
later  on  her  conversation  and  taking  songs,  the  same  sentiments 


72  SERAPIS. 

that  animated  his  own  bosom,  he  was  grateful  to  his  mother  and 
friend  ()l3Mni)ius,  who  had  awakened  and  fostered  in  her  sueh  teel- 
in<j:s  iuid  opinions. 

Constaiitine'8  attempts  to  show  her  tlie  beauty  of  his  faith,  and 
to  win  her  over  to  the  same,  tailed  utteilj';  and  the  older  the  two 
grew  the  greater  became  their  diversity  of  bcntimcnt,  and  the  more 
indignantly  did  tiie  one  brook  opposition  on  tlie  part  of  the  oilier. 

A  passionate  affection,  conceived  early,  attracted  the  ship-builder's 
Bon  to  his  lovely  playmate;  and  the  more  enthusiastically  he  clung 
to  liis  own  faith,  so  much  the  more  vehemently  he  glowed  wiih  de- 
sire for  her  conversion.  But  Olympius'  ])upil  was  not  easily  to  be 
won  over;  yes,  she  often  cornered  him  with  queslions  and  argu- 
ments, and  while  for  her  contending  for  their  faitlis  was  no  more 
tlum  a  wrestling-match,  bringing  all  her  powers  into  exercise,  witii 
lilin  it  was  an  altair  of  the  heart. 

Damia  und  Porphyrins  were  pleased  spectators  of  these  hot  dis- 
putaiions,  and  clapped  their  hands  in  applause,  as  at  the  public 
games,  when  Gorgo  pressed  hardly  upon  her  higlily-exciteU  opponent 
with  merry  laughter  snd  slashino  arouments. 

Then  came  a  day  when  Constantine  observed  that  his  whole- 
hearted advocacy  of  what  was,  to  iiim,  most  sacred,  had  become  a 
theme  for  jest  and  ridicule.  From  that  lime  the  youth,  who  was 
alread}'  approaching  the  verge  of  manhood,  kept  himself  ratlier 
aloof  from  his  neighbor's  house.  But  Gorgo  ever  drew  him  back 
with  magnetic  power;  and  if  thej'  chanced  to  be  alone,  ever  and 
anon  ihe  old  conflict  would  be  renewed;  and  when  this  was  the 
case,  more  earnestly  and  more  bitterly  than  in  e;,rlier  days. 

The  attraction  was  mutual,  so  that  it  he  had  more  elfectually  ex- 
erted self-control  and  remained  longer  absent,  she  would  have  pined 
away  through  longing  for  nis  lelurn.  They  felt  that  they  belonged 
to  each  other,  and  yet,  that  an  impassable  gulf  yawned  between 
them,  and  just  as  often  as  they  tried  to  l)ridge  it  over  or  fill  it  up, 
a  mysterious,  irresistible  fascination  drove  them  to  deepen  it, 
through  new  contention;  and  finally  Constantine  foun:l  it  insup- 
portable to  see  what  ho  held  most  sacred,  contemned  and  diagged 
into  the  dust,  by  her  of  all  people  in  the  woild. 

He  would  l)e  gone  from  Gorgo  and  Alexaridria  at  any  price. 

The  narratives  of  the  captains  both  of  war  and  merchant  ships, 
without  this,  had  filled  him  with  a  craving  to  become  acquainted" 
with  foreign  people  and  lands,  ills  father's  trade,  to  which  he  was 
destined,  had  no  attraction  for  him.  He  wanted  to  gel  away,  only 
to  yet  away,  and  a  fortunate  accident  soon  opened  up  to  him  the 
road  to  travel. 

One  day  Porphyrins  had  taken  him  with  him  on  an  excursion  to 
Canopus.  The  old  gentleman  had  lidden  in  a  carriage  while  his 
sons  and  Constantine  accomjianied  him  on  horseback.  Outside  the 
city  gate  they  had  been  met  by  Homanus,  the  cliief  commander  of 
the  imperial  troops,  attended  by  an  escort  of  hij^di  officials.  lie 
stopped  by  the  carriage  of  the  distinguished  mercliant,  and  finally, 
in  tlie  course  ot  conversation,  pointing  to  Constantine.  lie  had  asked 
if  that  was  liis  son. 

"  No,"  Porphyrins  had  replied,  "  but  1  would  that  he  were." 

At  these  words  the  ship-builder's  son  liad  bluslied  deeply,  but 


SEKAPIS.  73 

Ronianr.s  had  turned  his  horse  toward  his,  and  laying  his  hand  on 
his  arm  called  out  to  the  colonel  o£  cuirassiers  tioni  ArsiuoC:  "  A 
soMier  after  Ares'  own  heart!     Hold  him  fast.  Columella!" 

Before  the  cloud  of  dust  raised  by  the  hoots  of  the  retreating 
cavalry  liad  cleared  away,  Constantine  had  made  the  firm  resolve  to 
be  a  soldier;  but  in  his  paternal  mansion  this  proposition  was  re- 
ceived in  very  different  ways. 

If  is  father  found  little  to  object  to  in  it,  for  he  possessed  only 
two  docks  and  three  sons.  The  balancing  of  the  scale  was  turned 
by  the  consideration  that  Constantine,  with  his  powerful  will  and 
great  strength,  was  well  fitted  for  the  profession  of  arms.  His  pious 
uiotiier  opposed  it,  on  the  authority  of  the  great  teaclieis  Clement 
and  Tertulliau,  vsho  had  forbidden  believers  to  take  the  sword  as 
soldiers,  and  cited  the  case  of  the  holy  Maximilianus,  v»'ho,  under 
Diocletian,  had  been  compelled  to  enter  the  army,  and  had  sufleied 
death  by  an  executioner's  hand  because  he  could  not  be  induced  to 
shed  his  neighbor's  blood  in  battle.  The  profession  of  arms,  she 
declared  to  be  irreconcilable  with  a  devout  Christian  walk  and  con- 
versation. 

The  father,  however,  did  not  heed  this  argument;  for  new  times 
had  come,  the  greatest  part  of  the  army  had  received  baptism,  the 
Church  herself  prayed  for  victory,  and  at  its  head  stood  the  great 
emperor  Theodosius,  that  pattern  of  a  genuinely  orthodox  and  zeal- 
ous Christian. 

Clement  was  master  in  his  own  house,  and  so  Constantine  entered 
the  corps  of  cuirassiers  at  ArsinoG. 

In  the  war  against  the  Blemmyer  he  had  succeeded  in  meriting 
his  first  distinctions. 

Later  Arsinoe  again  became  his  garrison,  and  because  Alexandria 
could  be  easily  reached  from  that  town,  he  kept  up  constant  inter- 
course with  his  own  family  and  that  of  the  merchani. 

Not  quite  three  years  ago  he  had  aided  in  quelling  the  mutiny 
■which  had  broken  out  in  his  native  city,  on  behalf  of  the  usurper 
Maximus,  and  soon  afterward  had  been  summoned  to  Europe,  in 
order  to  take  part  in  the  war,  which  Theodosius  had  undertaken 
against  that  same  Maximus. 

A  disagreeable  misunderstanding  had  interfered  with  the  harmony 
of  Conslantine's  leave-taking  of  Gorgo;  for,  wlien  he  hud  held  out 
his  band  to  old  Damia,  she  had  promised'  with  her  gianddaughter 
to  oiler  up  a  sacrifice  In  his  behalf,  from  tiaie  to  time.  Perhaps 
this  offer  had  been  made  in  good  faith;  but  he  had  regarded  it  as 
meant  in  derision,  and  so  turned  to  go  with  his  feelings  deeply 
hurt. 

Gorso,  however,  could  not  bear  to  part  from  him  thus;  and 
so,  without  paying  any  heed  to  her  grandmother's  astonishment, 
she  had  called  him  bank,  held  out  both  hands  to  him,  and  biddea 
him  a  cordial  "  farewell." 

Damia  had  looked  after  him  in  silence,  and  ever  afterward  avoided 
calling  his  name  before  Gorgo. 

After  the  victory  over  Maximus,  Constantine  had  been  advanced 
ffith  unprecedented  rapidity,  to  take  Columella's  place  at  the  head 


74  SERAPIS. 

of  tlie  cuirassiers,  and  yesterday  entered  Alexandria  as  prefect,  with 
his  ilia  miUdvia.* 

Gorgo  b:ul  not  ceased  to  think  of  him  fondly,  but  lier  love  for 
1)1  in  lunl  aicaiii  and  again  struck  her  in  tlie  light  of  a  treason, 
a  breach  ot  faith  toward  hei  gods;  and,  to  atone  for  her  fault,  she 
had  departed  from  the  neutrality  of  her  falhei's  house,  and  actively 
ioined  Olympius  in  his  battling  for  the  faith  of  their  fathers.  She 
had  become  a  daily  visitor  at  the  shrine  of  Isis,  and  the  prospect  ot 
hearing  her  sing  at  hig'i  festivals  had  filled  the  temple  of  that  god- 
dess more  than  once.  That  time  when  Olympius  had  protected  the 
sanctuary  of  Berapis  against  the  assaults  of  the  Christian  mob,  she 
and  her  grandmother  had  stood  chief  among  the  ladies  who  sup- 
plied their  struggling  fellow-believers  with  the'means  of  subsistence. 

All  this  had  lent"  iutei est  to  her  life,  but  every  little  victory  ac- 
corded her  in  this  battle  had  filled  her  soul  with  pain  and  unrest. 
Months  and  years  had  passed  by  with  her  as  adversary  of  her  lover's 
faith.  The  glad,  lively  child  had  changed  into  the  serious  grown 
girl,  the  determined  woman.  She  was  the  only  one  in  the  house 
who  ventured  to  gainsay  her  grandmother,  and  to  insist  upon  wliat- 
ever  slie  deemed  right.  The  desire  ot  her  heart  remained  unsatis- 
fied; but  her  strong  mind  found  fit  food  in  her  surroundings,  and 
so  would  have  gained  the  upper  hand  and  controlled  ner  character 
and  actions,  if  music  and  singing  had  not  kept  awake  and  lively  the 
softer  stirrings  of  her  deep,  true,  womanly  nature. 

The  tidings  of  Constanline's  return  had  moved  her  to  the  very 
depths  ot  her  being.  It  brought  her  either  the  highest  bliss  or  fresh 
inquietude  and  torture. 

There  he  was. 

There  was  the  crest  of  his  helmet  emerging  from  the  green,  and 
now  his  whole  tigure  was  discernible,  as  lie  stepped  forth  from  the 
shrubberj^;  she  pressed  closer  up  against  the  pillar  because  she  felt 
that  her  Icuees  were  trembling. 

Proud  and  loftily  erect,  in  glittering  armor,  he  came  to  her,  exactly 
as  he  had  appeared  to  her  in  imagination  upon  many  a  sleepless 
night. 

ISow  he  was  passing  by  her  mother's  mausoleum,  and  it  seemed 
to  her  as  though  a  cold  hand  were  laid  warningly  upon  her  loudlj-- 
beating  heart.  Now  flashed  upon  her  the  image  of  her  father's  man- 
sion, with  its  rich  artistic  decorations,  and  side  by  side  with  it  the 
home  of  the  master  ship-builder,  with  its  plain,  coldly-naked,  and 
uncomlortable  rooms;  and  it  seemed  to  her  as  though,  in  the  latter 
she  must  stifle,  wither,  perish.  But  then  he  himself  appeared  on 
his  paternal  threshold,  and  it  seemed  to  her  as  though  she  lieard 
again  the  silvery  laugh  of  his  boyish  voice,  and  now  again  her  heart 
began  to  grow  warm.  She,  the  clear-headed  womeu^  well  versed 
in  the  doctrine  of  self-knowledge,  forgot  that  she  had  said  to  herself 
the  night  before,  that  he  would  just  as  little  renounce  his  Christ  as 
she  her  Isis;  and  although  the  summit  of  her  wishes  be  attained,  it 
could  signify  for  him  and  for  her  brief  happiness  followed  by  long 
misery.  All  this  she  forgot;  she  knew  nothing  more  now  of  reason- 

*  An  ala  miliaria  consists  of  twenty-four  turmae  or  nine  hundred  and  sixty 
horse;  a  prefect  had  command  of  them. 


SERAPIS.  V5 

int^  and  nice  balancing;  for,  as  her  ear  caught  the  sound  of  his  step, 
she  had  to  exert  strong  selt  control  to  keep  herself  from  rushing  out 
to  meet  him  with  wide-open  arms. 

Now,  at  last,  he  stood  opposite  to  her,  now  he  extended  his  right 
hand  warmly  and  honestly;  and  as  their  hands  remamed  tirmly 
clasped,  the  hearts  of  both  were  so  full,  that  they  found  not  one 
word  for  salutation.  Only  their  eyes  spoke  what  they  felt;  and  when 
he  remarked  that  hers  swam  in  tears,  he  called  her  name  once,  and 
then  again  rapturouBly  and  yet  questioniugly,  as  though  he  were 
not  quite  sure  of  the  meaning  of  her  emotion. 

Then  she  laid  her  tender  left  hand  upon  his  strong  one  that  still 
kept  her  right  hand  closely  clasped,  and  said  with  a  sunny  smile: 
"  Welcome,  Constantine,  welcome  home.  How  glad  1  am  that  you 
have  come  back!" 

"  And  I,  I  tool"  cried  he  deeply  moved.  "  Oh  Gorgo,  Gorgo! 
Can  it  be  that  whole  years  have  passed  between  that  farewell  and 

DOW?" 

"  They  have  indeed,"  replied  she,  "  and  what  troubled,  warring 
years  they  have  been!" 

"  But  today  we  solemnize  the  festival  of  peace!"  exclaimed  he 
fei  ventlv.  "  1  have  learned  to  leave  to  every  one  his  own,  provided 
that  he  leaves  mine  untouched.  The  old  quarrel  is  buried.  You 
accept  me  as  1  am,  and  1,  1  shall  hold  to  the  noble  and  beautiful  in 
which  you  --ire  so  rich.  The  fruit  ot  every  right  battle  is  peace. 
Let  us  pluck  it,  Gorgo,  and  enjoy  it  gratefully  together.  Ah  me! 
now,  that  I  stand  here,  looking  down  upon  this  garden  and  yonder 
lake,  hearing  the  strokes  of  hammers  coming  from  the  dock,  and 
looking  into  your  eyes,  it  appears  to  me  as  though  the  days  of  our 
childhood  were  to  begin  anew;  only  richer,  more  unclouded  and 
fairer." 

"If  my  brothers  were  only  here." 

**  1  have  seen  them." 

"  Where?" 

"  In  Thessalonika,  well  and  cheerful,  and  1  have  letters  for  you 
from  them." 

"  Letters?"  cried  Gorgo,  withdrawing  her  hand  from  him.  "  That 
is  what  i  call  a  slow  messenger.  House  adjoins  house,  and  an  old 
friend  finds  not  one  mmute  from  one  noon  to  the  other  to  acquit 
himself  of  his  trust,  and  carry  to  his  neighbors—" 

rieiehe  broke  in.  "My  parents  came  first,  you  know.  And 
then  that  exacting  tyrant,  the  service,  did  not  allow  me  to  call  my 
breath  my  own,  from  yesterday  afternoon  till  a  few  hours  ago. 
Roinanus  has  even  trenched  upon  my  time  for  sleep,  and  kept  me 
with  him  until  the  moon  set.  For  that  matter  1  did  not  lose  much 
thereby,  for,  before  1  had  seen  you  again,  1  could  hardly  have  closed 
an  eye!  Early  this  morning  1  wa3  on  uuty  again,  and  seldom  have 
1  ridden  more  unwillingly  to  the  front.  Later,  too,  came  ilelay  after 
delay,  even  on  my  way  here;  and  now  1  must  render  acknowledg- 
ments to  the  interruption,  for  to  that  1  am  indebted  most  likely,  tor 
finding  you  alone.  Care  for  it  now,  that  we  remain  so,  for  such  an 
instant  returns  no  more.     There  goes  the  door  already." 

"  Come  with  me  into  the  garden,"  cried  Gorge,  becKoning  him  to 


76  SERAPIS. 

follow.  "  My  heart  fs  as  f ul?  as  yours.  At  the  fish-pond  undo 
neiilh  the  old  sycamore-tree— there  is  the  (luietest  place!" 

Under  the  dense  foliage  of  this  venerable  tree,  stood  a  bench  that 
when  children  they  had  constructed  themselves.  There  she  sat 
down,  bat  he  remained  standing  before  her,  and  said: 

■'  Here,  here,  you  shall  listen  to  me!  Here  have  we  often  heeu 
happy." 

"  So  happy!"  echoed  she.  softly. 

"  And  to-day,"  continued  he,  "  to-day,  we  are  so  agam.  "What  a 
hammeiing  and  thumping  there  is  here!  It  is  well  that  my  coat  of 
mail  so  well  panoplies  my 'breast,  else  1  verily  believe  it  would  burst 
from  sheer  hope  and  gratitude." 

"  Gratitude?"  asked  Gorgo,  casting  her  eyes  down:  but  he  went 
on  passionately: 

"  Yes,  from  gratitude,  the  purest,  strongest  gratitude!  How 
rich,  inexpressibly  rich  you  have  made  me,  you  hardly  know 
j'ourself;  but  no  emperor  has  ever  known  how  to  rewurd  love 
and  faithfulness  more  generously  than  you,  the  trouble  and  com- 
fort, the  pain  and  joy  of  my  life!  You  have — it  was  the  first  thing 
my  mother  told  me  after  1  got  here — you  have  shed  ])uriiing  tears 
on  her  bosom  when  the  false  tidings  of  my  death  reached  here. 
That  has  fallen  upon  my  heart  like  morning  dew  upon  withering 
hope;  so  rich  a  present  as  that  was  never  bestowed  upon  a  poor 
wanderer  before.  1  am  no  orator,  and  how  can  empty  words  give 
expression  to  what  1  feel?  You  must  suspect  without  that;  no,  no, 
you  know  what  for  so  many  years—" 

"  1  know,"  answered  she,  looking  him  full  in  the  eyes,  and 
suffering  him  to  sit  down  beside  her  and  taKe  her  hand  again.  "  If 
it  were  otherwise,  I  could  not  bear  it,  and  I  admit  freely,  too,  tliat 
1  have  shed  more  tears  about  you  than  you  imagine.  You  love 
rae,  Constantine — "  Here  he  threw  his  arms  around  her;  but  she 
freed  herself,  and  exclaimed  urgently:  "  No,  1  beseech  you,  no— not 
so,  not  yet,  until  I  have  told  what  distresses,  what  hinders  me  from 
casting  myself  freely  and  gladly  into  the  arms  of  happiness.  1 
know  indeed,  what  you  must,  will,  and  may  ask,  but  before  you  do 
so,  Constantine,  let  me  remind  you  of  what  used  to  disturb  the  tran- 
quillity of  our  lives  so  cruelly,  even  while  we  were  still  children. 
Like  a  whirlwind  it  has  often  torn  us  apart,  us  whom  the  current 
of  our  hearts  had  been  forcing  together,  so  long  we  think!  Of 
what  .inites  us  1  need  not  remind  you,  we  both  know  that  well,  only 
too  well — " 

"  No,  no,"  responded  he,  firmly. 

*'  Tliat  we  are  yet  to  learn  to  know  in  fill  its  fullness  and  beauty. 
The  other  thing,  that  whirlwind,  of  which  you  speak,  has  troubled 
and  disturbed  rae  again  and  again  more  than  it  has  you;  but  since 
1  have  learned  that  you  wept  tor  me,  and  that  you  love  me,  all 
solicitude  has  been  swept  away,  and  1  confidently  believe  that  all 
will  work  well.  Y"ou  know  me,  Gorgo,  know  tliat  lam  no  dreamer 
and  enthusiast;  yet  1  expect  all  that  is  fairest  and  highest,  at  your 
side,  if  one  ihing  only  stands  fast:  Is  your  heart  full,  quite  full  of 
love,  as  mine  is?  Have  you  thought  of  me  daily,  hourly',  during 
my  long  absence,  as  1  always,  always  did  of  you?" 

Hereupon  Gorgo    bowed  her  Uead  and  repeated  with  glowing 


SERAPIS.  77 

cheeks:  "  1  love  you,  and  hnve  never  loved  any  one  else:  all  the  time 
tbat  you  were  gone  1  followed  you  in  thought,  lovingly,  and  long- 
ingly; and  yet,  yet,  Constantiue,  there  is  one  thing  else — " 

"It  parts  us  no  more,''  exclaimed  the  enraptured  prefect,  "  since 
we  have  love,  that  great,  perfect  love  that  conquereth  all  things. 
At  her  nod  that  whirlwind  melts  away  lilce  an  infant's  breath, 
she  bridges  every  chasm — she — in  the  most  beautiful  words  of  the 
greatest  apostle— she  can  remove  mountains,  she  is  long-suffering 
and  kind,  believeth  ali  things,  euduretli  all  things  and  never  failelhl 
She  abides  with  us  to  the  end,  and  will  teach  us  how  to  find  that 
peace  of  which  she  is  the  refuge  and  adornment,  the  child  and 
mother!" 

At  these  words  Gorgo  had  looked  warmly  into  the  warrior's  eyes; 
but  he  pressed  his  lips  to  her  hand,  and  continued,  full  of  deep 
emotion: 

"  I'es,  mine,  mine  you  shall  be,  and  1  will  and  may  sue  lor  your 
hand.  There  are  words  spoken  in  life  that  one  never  forgets. 
Your  father  once  said  that  he  wished  1  were  his  son!  On  the 
march,  in  my  tent,  in  battle,  everywhere,  that  speech  went  with  me: 
for  me  it  had  only  one  sense:  1  shall  be  his  son  if  Gorgo  is  my 
wife!     And  now,  now  that  hour  has  come — " 

"  isot  yet,  not  this  very  day,"  interposed  she,  urgently.  "  What 
you  hope  for  is  my  hope  too.  Our  love  can  bring  us  all  that  is  de- 
iightlul.  What  you  must  believe,  believe,  and  for  my  part,  1  shall 
never  urge  upon  you  what  1  deem  most  sacred.  I  shall  leave  every- 
thing, bear  everything,  and  find  all  easy  for  your  sake.  What  shall 
be  granted  to  your  Christ,  and  what  to  our  gods,  has  already  found 
solution;  but  not  to-day  nor  to-morrow  even.  Let  that  be  past  first 
which  1  have  taken  upon  myself  for  these  days.  My  heart  and 
love  are  vours;  but  should  I  flee  from  the  battle  to-day  or  to- 
morrow, oUiers,  Olympius  especially,  would  have  the  right  to  point 
the  finger  of  scorn  at  me." 

"  What  means  that,  what  can  you  contemplate?"  asked  Constan- 
tino earnestly  and  anxiously. 

"  The  winding  up  of  my  past  life.  Before  1  can  say:  there,  you 
have  me,  1  am  yours." 

"  And  do  you  not  belong  to  me  already,  not  to-day?"  asked  he, 
pleadingly. 

"  To-day,  no!"  answered  she,  firmly.  "  To-day  1  am  claimed  by 
the  great  cause  that  for  your  sake  1  renounce,  it  bears  about  with 
it  the  death  sentence  of  its  own  dignity,  and  yet  to  only  one  other 
is  conceded  the  right  to  despise  it.  1  perform  that  which  1  have 
taken  upon  myself.  Asli  not  what  T  mean.  It  would  vex  you — 
but  day  after  to-morrow,  when  the  feast  of  Isis  is  over — " 

The  young  lady's  last  words  were  cut  short  by  a  shrill  call  from 
old  Damia,  and  several  female  slaves  were  seen  hurrying  through 
the  garden  on  a  search  after  her. 

Both  rose  from  their  seats,  and  while  they  were  approaching  the 
house,  Coustantine  said  gravely:  "  1  insist  upon  noihing,  but  trust 
to  my  expfrience:  what  we  give  up  hardly,  yet  must  resign,  the 
more  quickly  and  resolutely  we  break  with  it,  the  better.  Nothing 
is  gained  by  that  deUiy,  the  pain  is  only  prolonged.  Consider, 
Gorgo,  this  postponement,  this  procrastination  is  a  barrier  that  you 


78  SERA  PIS. 

interpose  betvveou  ua  and  our  happiness.  You  were  ever  of  a  reso- 
lulG  spirit;  courage  tbis  time  too,  and  cut  short  ofi  what  can  not 
last!" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  returned  she  quickly.  "  But  what  transcends  my 
power,  and  makes  me  break  my  word,  that  you  can  not,  may  not 
ask.  The  coming  morrow  does  not  yet  belonij;  to  you;  it  shall  be  a 
day  ot  leave-taking.  But  then— 1  want  nothing;  but  you.  lean 
not  leave  you,  j'our  happmess  sliall  be  mine:  only  do  not  make  too 
hard  tor  me  parting  from  ad  that  has  been  dear  to  me  from  a  child, 
yhut  your  eyes  to  wiiat  will  take  place  to-morrow,  and  then— Oh! 
that  we  had' oidy  found  out,  from  the  first,  how  to  keep  the  step 
upon  the  right  road!  We  know  each  other  so  well,  and  I  am  sure, 
1  am  sure  that  our  hearts  will  find  exquisite  plcasuie  in  bearing  for 
one  another's  sake  whatever  diversities  the  mind  will  not  appre- 
hend nor  assent  to.  1  could  be  so  unspeakal)ly  happy,  and  yet, 
and  yet,  my  bosom  is  so  oppressed,  and  1  am— no,  1  am  not  yet 
happy!" 

CHAPTER    Xll. 

TnE  returned  soldier  had  been  cordially  received  by  his  friends 
In  the  neighborhood,  but  old  Damia  had  been  made  uneasy  by  the 
deportment  of  Coiistantme  and  Gorgo  when  they  entered  the  liouse 
after  their  first  meeting. 

He  appeared  thoughtful  and  agit&ted,  she  in  a  state  of  joyous  ex- 
citement, as  though  she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  something  un- 
usual. 

Had  Venus  a  hand  in  the  game?  Could  the  pair  have  turned  into 
seriousness  the  old  sports  of  their  childliood?  The  young  prefect 
of  cavalry  looked  handsome  and  fascinating  euDugh,  and  her  grand- 
daughter was  only  a  woman  at  best. 

As  far  as  Constantine  was  concerned  the  old  lady  had  no  personal 
dislike  of  him,  nay,  she  prized  his  steadfast,  manly  gravity,  and 
taking  all  in  all,  was  glad,  too,  to  see  him  again,  but  to  think  of — 
Ihe  ship-builder's  son,  the  grandson  of  a  freeiiman,  the  Christian, 
and  bearing  service  under  the  emperor,  be  it  as  prefect  or  something 
yet  higher — as  a  suitor  for  her  Gorgo,  the  cliarmlng  heiress  of  the 
largest  part  of  her  wealth,  who  was  courted  by  all  the  youth  and 
nobility  of  Alexandria — this  was  something  surpassing  her  ability. 
And  since  she  never  exercised  self-restiaint,  her  hand  was  extended 
to  him,  it  is  true,  with  an  ill  grace,  but  quickly  enough  she  showed 
hmi  by  sharp  and  cutting  speeches  that  her'aversion  to  his  faith 
kept  as  lively  as  ever. 

JLihe  joined  in  every  discussion,  and  when  Demetrius  (who  had 
repaired  to  his  Lncle  Porphyrius'  house,  after  having  been  snubbed 
bj"-  Dada)  spoke  of  the  horses  that  he  hail  trained  for  Marcus,  and 
(Constantine  asked  him  it  there  were  anyP.arbary  blood-hoises  from 
his  stud  now  to  be  purcha?e<l  in  Alexandria.  Danda  exclaimed: 
"  You  excel  your  cru(nfied  God  in  all  respects;  IIo  roiie  on  a  young 
ass,  l)ut  for  you  even  the  t)esl  horses  of  lOgvpt  are  not  good  enough!"' 

Birt  the  prefect  was  not  to  be  discomposed  tliis  day,  and  although 
he  would  liave  been  perfecily  capable  ol  making  a  biting  retort  to 
each  sarcasm,  j'ct  he  restrained  himself,   and  made  it  appear  as 


SERAPIS.  79 

tlionsh  lie  mistook  the  old  lady's  onshxiigbt  as  bits  of  barmlcss 
pleasantry. 

Gorgo  rejoiced  at  his  moderation,  and  thanked  him  lor  i(  with 
mute  tilauces,  and  a  pressure  of  his  hand  when  she  could  bestow  it 
unobserved.  Demetrius,  who  had  known  tlie  prefect  when  a  boy, 
and  through  Porphyrins'  inteivention  had  sold  him  the  tirst  horse 
that  he  had  ever  called  his  own,  hail  met  him  cordially.  As  soon 
as  they  had  exchanged  the  first  salutations,  he  had  remarked  to  him 
jocularly  that  he  had  already  had  tne  pleasure  of  seeing  him  a  while 
ago,  that  he  was  in  a  good  school,  and  had  the  luck  of  scaring  up 
the  finest  srame  in  Alexandria.  So  saying,  he  had  tapped  him  on 
the  shoulder,  and  winked  at  him  knowingly.  His  meaning 
altogetlier  escaped  Conatantiue;  but  Gorgo  had  thought  him  pre- 
sumptuous and  disagreeable. 

Porphyrins  besieged  the  new-comer  with  questions,  and  the  pre- 
fect enjoyed  talk  with  him,  until  there  arose  a  great  stir  in  the  gar- 
den. Soon  a  most  unpleasant  .scene  was  witnessed  there:  Dame 
Herse  was  to  be  seen  pushing  and  dragging  Dada's  Egyptian  maid 
before  her  beside  herself  with  rage,  and  indulging  in  violent  re- 
proaches, while  her  husband  was  exhorting  her  to  moderation, 
Orpheus,  too,  who  came  behind  the  others  from  lime  to  time,  ad- 
dressed a  soothing  word  to  his  excited  mother. 

Soon  the  minstrel  family  had  conce  up  to  the  other  group,  and 
Herse  undertook,  unsolicited,  to  exphiin  the  cause  of  her  anger. 

She  had  only  had  a  brief  conversation  with  Marcus'  mother,  for  she 
had  oeen  exactly  of  her  mind  as  to  the  advisability  of  their  forth- 
with leaving  Alexantiria,  and  refused  positfvel}^  to  be  paid  by  her 
for  what  she  meant  to  do  of  Uer  own  accord.  Upon  the  widow's 
threatening  to  bring  her  before  the  judge,  she  had  replied  that  they 
were  no  public  singers,  but  exercised  their  musical  talents  for  their 
own  pleasure  as  free  citizens.  To  the  anxious  mother's  acciisatiou 
tliut  Dada  was  trying  to  entrap  htr  son  answer  had  not  been  lack- 
ing, but  she  had  indignantly  declared  that  the  good  fame  of  her 
own  sister's  daughter  was  a  iar  weightier  consideration  with  her 
than  what  might  be  said  concerning  a  young  man  in  A.lexandria, 
seeing  that  so  much  license  is  allowed  his  class  here.  Thereupon 
JMaria  had  retorted  that,  on  her  side,  Herse  must  not  forget  that 
means  stood  at  her,  viz.,  Maria's  command,  for  briuiring  punishment 
upon  those  who  should  manage  to  beguile  a  Christian  young  man, 
and  entice  him  into  the  paths  of  rum. 

Here  the  interview  had  drawn  to  a  close.  In  front  of  the  Cano- 
plan  mansion  Herse  had  found  her  husband  and  son,  and,  with 
them,  liad  returned  immediately  to  tlie  ship. 

There  they  had  met  with  a  dreadful  surprise;  for  they  had  found 
nobody  on  board  but  the  old  Egyptian  slave,  and  by  her  been  in- 
formed thill  Dada  had  sent  her  oil  to  get  her  a  pair  of  shoes.  Wheu 
sue  had  come  back  with  them,  the  maiden  liad  vanished.  The 
slave  had  also  seen  Argus  and  her  little  brother  make  their  escape 
into  the  open  country,  through  that  gate  of  the  garden  which  opened 
upon  the  beach. 

"  As  to  what  has  gone  with  the  Christian,"  cried  Herse,  "  that  is 
a  matter  of  small  moment;"  but  Dada,  her  niece,  she  went  on  to 
say,  had  ever  been  true  to  them,  and  as   many  conjurors  and 


80  SEKAPIS. 

maj^iciana  as  there  were  in  Alexandria,  to  talk  of  allowing  a  well 
■wouKin  lo  vanish  wa8  an  absurdity.  Some  deceiver  had  taken  ad- 
vantai^e  ot  the  child's  inexperience,  and  most  assuredly  that 
Egyptian  hiig,  that  brown  slave,  had  had  a  hand  in  the  game. 

She  did  not  mean  to  accuse  anybody,  but  slie  knew  people  who 
would  like  above  all  things  for  Dada  and  that  milksop  ot  a  young 
Christian  to  go  to  ruin  and  misery  together. 

All  this  she  had  poured  forth  sometimes  passionately,  sometimes 
amid  tears,  in  so  domg  rejecting  with  indignation,  her  liusband's 
atempts  to  pacify  her;  for  delicate  as  were  his  sensibilities,  lie  had 
felt  deeply  pained  by  his  wife's  loud  and  unladylike  manner  in  the 
presen(^e  of  strangers,  their  superiors  in  station. 

Old  Damia  had  attentively  followed  Ihewralhful  woman's  stream 
ot  talk,  but  had  oidy  noticed  with  a  shrug  ot  her  shoulders  and 
slightly  scornful  smile,  her  covert  insinuation  against  herself. 

Porphyrins,  who  had  found  this  scene  highly  distasteful,  now  in- 
terposed, and  after  the  fact  slated  had  been  proved,  that  Agues  had 
secretly  left  the  garden,  he  bade  the  slave  narrate  the  series  ot 
events  that  had  taken  place  on  shipboard,  in  the  absence  of  the 
singers;  for  every  untrue  word  that  she  spoke,  she  might  expect  a 
half-dozen  strokes  of  the  bastinado  upon  the  bare  soles  of  her  feet. 

This  threat  brought  from  the  Egyptian  a  loud  wail  ot  distress, 
but  Pori;hyrius  knew  how  to  put  a  speedy  stop  to  such  a  demon- 
stration; and  now  Sachepris  *)egan  to  tell,  in  accordance  with  truth, 
what  had  hai)pened  until  llerse's  return  to  the  ship. 

The  beginning  of  her  recital  contained  nothing  ot  special  interest, 
and  after  she  bad  been  urged  to  greater  haste,  she  continued:  "  And 
theu — then  came  Mr.  Constantine,  into  theship  where  we  were,  and 
prt'tly  mistress  jested  with  him,  and  begged  him  to  take  off  his  hel- 
met, for  pretty  mistress  wanted  to  see  his  scar,  that  bad  swoid-cut 
over  the  eye  there,  and  Mr.  Constantine  took  it  off — " 

"  That  is  not  true!"  interposed  Gorgo. 

"  Yes,  but  it  is  though.  Sachepris  loves  the  soles  ot  her  feet,  mis- 
tress," lamented  the  slave.     "  Just  ask  Mr.  Constantine  himself." 

"  1  was  on  the  ship,"  affirmed  he.  "  As  1  was  coming  from  the 
dock  a  young  lady's  tan  tell  into  the  water.  1  fished  it  out  for  her," 
at  her  request,  and  gave  it  back  to  her." 

"  Yes,  it  was  so.  just  sol"  cried  the  slave.  "And  pretty  mis- 
tress laughed,  and  talked  with  Mr.  Constantine,  and— was  it  not  so? 
—and  took  his  helmei  away  from  him,  and  rocked  it  backward  and 
forward  in  her  hands." 

"  So  you  stopped  to  trifle  with  that  blonde  hu«sy  on  your  way  here, 
did  you?"  asked  the  indignant  young  lady.     "  Fy  upon  you  men!" 

Ill  these  words  were  discernible  the  keenest  anper  and  resentment 
againiit  Constantine.  lie  interrupted  her  speech,  however,  calling  her 
name  earnestly,  and  reproachfully;  but  she  could  not  control  her 
wrath,  and  continued,  tiring  up  anew:  "  So  you  flirted  with  that 
girl,  (lid  j'ou,  on  your  way^in  the  middle  ot  youi  way  heie?  For 
^hamel  once  more,  lor  shame!  They  call  it  a  blessing  to  be  light  of 
heart!  {""or  my  pait  the  gods  preserve  me  from  such  a  gift!  Toy- 
ing, triflintr,  and  ho!  what  a  sudden  change,  deepest — most  solemn 
earnest uess I    And  theu,  who  insures  me  against  it— before  the 


SERAPIS.  81 

iliadowhus  advanced  the  lieadth  of  two  fingers  on  the  dial,  trifling 
again!"' 

'  Gorgo  laughed  bitterly  and  scorntnlly.  Then  suddenly  she 
ceased,  and  uirned  pale,  for  a  change  had  come  over  Constantine 
that  rerrified  lier. 

The  scar  over  his  eye  assumed  a  purplish  tint,  and  bis  deep  voice 
liad  a  8lraui:;e,  husliy  sound,  as,  ■witli  l)owed  necli,  and  bead  bent 
far  forward,  he  exclaimed:  "  And  though  you  bad  seen  me  with 
your  own  cye.-<  llirt  with  the  girl,  you  should  not  have  believed  it; 
and  if  you  say  once  more  that  j'ou  do  believe  it,  then  1  give  you 
back  your  fy!  for  shame!  with  mterest.  It  cuts  me  to  the  quick; 
but  so  be  it  I" 

Tiie  band  of  the  prefect,  meanwhile,  had  clutched  convulsively  at 
the  back  of  the  chair  before  him.  Like  a  tlireateuiug  war-god  he 
stood  confronting  the  maiden,  and  his  glowing  eye  sought  hers. 

Hereupon  Damia  could  hold  in  no  longer,  but  struck  the  floor 
hard,  with  her  staff,  and  ground  her  teeth  with  rage  against  the 
warrior. 

"  That  were  my  prerogative!  To  threaten  and  dare  the  daughter 
of  this  house,  as  oue  would  treat  a  common  sohlier!  Ears  are  open, 
my  little  man  in  the  gay  coat.  In  the  house  of  a  free  Alexandrian 
citizen,  nothing  is  to  be  gotten  by  ordering,  but  by  showing  good 
manners!"  So  saying  she  turned  to  Gorgo,  and  gently  wagging  her 
head  from  side  to  side,  continued  thus: 

"  So  it  turns  out,  my  little  dove,  when  one  condescends  too  kind- 
ly. Let  us  make  a  quick  thing  of  it.  How  d'ye  do  and  good-by  lie 
often  close  together!" 

Then  tlie  prefect  turned  and  had  put  his  foot  upon  the  stairs  lead- 
ing into  the  garden,  but  (iorgo  rushed  after  him,  grasped  him  by 
the  hand,  and  called  to  the  old  lady: 

"  He  is  rijjbt,  grandmother;  certainly  he  is  right!  And  you,  Cou- 
Btantine,  stay  and  pardon  my  folly.  If  you  love  me,  mother,  keep 
pilence;  he  will  give  us  the  explanation  afterward!" 

Tlie  soldier  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief,  and  nodded  to  her  silently: 
but  the  slave  began  anew : 

"And  vvben  Mr.  Constantine  left,  Mr.  Demetrius  came,  and  Mr. 
Demetrius— what  can  poor  Sachepris  know?— let  Mr.  Demetrius  tell 
about  it  himself!" 

"  That  is  quickly  done,"  said  the  farmer,  who  knew  not  how  to 
understand  lialf  of  what  was  <roing  on  and  being  said  before  him. 
"  i\Iy  brotner  Marcus  is  over  head  and  ears  in  love  with  the  pretty 
litile  minx,  ami  to  guard  his  inexpe/ienced  youth  from  a  snare,  I 
wanted  to  take  the  burden  upon  my  own  shoulders,  for  they  are 
broader,  and  stronger.  1  went  into  the  attair  whole  cloth,  and 
offered  the  girl — I  am  ashamed  of  my  mad  proceeding — why,  1 
offered  her  the  treasures  of  Midas;  but  to  offer  and  take  are  two 
different  things,  and  the  tigerish  thing  sent  me  off — Castor  and  Pol- 
lux—sent me  ofl  with  a  flea  in  my  ear.  My  consolation  was,  that 
Constantine  had  .pist  left  the  girl  when  1  got  there.  Thought  1, 
at;aiiist  such  a  Mars  as  that,  a  poor  rustic  Pan,  from  the  woods, 
stands  no  chance  whatever;  l)ut,  as  Mars  renounces  his  Venus,  then, 
not  to  fall  loo  low  in  my  own  oninion,  1  must  agree  ihat  the  lively 
blonde  is  a  much  better  girl  than  we  take  her  to  be.     My  offer,  tor 


S2  SERA  PIS. 

"nhich  any  oilier  beaiif.y  that  1  am  acquainted  with  lieroahout  would 
have  followed  a  cripple  to  Uades.  iiisulled  her  so  lliat  sLe  shed  tears, 
and  1  have  long  since  l)e.i!;un  to  respect  that  same  Dada." 

"  She  is  my  own  sister's  child!"  intenupted  Ilerse,  who  had  l)eeii 
made  really  indignant  at  the  flighting  tone  used  by  every  one  ia 
si)eaking  of  her  foster-child,  and  so  emphasized  the  word  "  own  " 
as  strongly  as  if  she  were  overrun  with  slep-sisters.  "  If  we  do  have 
to  earn  our  bread  by  singing,  nevertheless  we  have  seen  better  days! 
He  that  is  Croesus  to-day  may  be  I^azarus  to-morrow.  As  for  our- 
selves, Karnis  has  not  squandered  away  his  wealth—it  was  foolish 
of  him  but  splendid  none  the  less,  and  maybe  we  would  do  it  atraiu 
—but  he  sacrificed  his  inheritance  in  the  interests  of  downtrodden 
art.  But  who  inquires  where  wealth  went,  provided  that  it  is  gone! 
If  one  wins  and  keeps,  then  people  all  praise  him;  dogs  hite  the 
poor!  The  maiden— we  have  kept  her  well,  treating  her  like  our 
own  daughter,  and  sharing  with  her  our  last  penny.  Karnis  hf.s 
gone  to  no  end  of  trouble  cultivating  her  voice;  and  now  when  they 
could  have  done  something,  and  tlicir  singing  satisfied  even  strict 
judges,  now  they  might  have  helped  us  to  earn  a  good  living— now 
—now." 

The  worthy  matron,  at  these  words,  burst  into  tears;  but  Kami's 
sousht  kindly  to  soothe  her  and  said:  "  We'll  come  through  all 
right  without  th«m:  Nil  despcrandf/m*  sa.js  the  Roman  Horace. 
For  nothing  but  that?  Only  such  a  reason  as  that?"  cried 
Karnis.  "  flow  will  it  vex  the  noble  Olympius?  and— by  Apollo— 
my  heart  has'  not  been  so  UeaTv  for  a  long  while!  fir.  do  you  re- 
member our  conversation  on  the  ship  concerning  the  dirge  over 
Pytho?  ^\  ell,  we  had  transposed  Ihe  '  Lament  of  Isis  '  likewise 
into  lyrical  harmony,  and  to  hear  this  young  lady's  wonderful  voice 
and  that  of  our  Agnes  blending  with  the  accompaniment  of 
Orpheus'  flute-playing— oh,  it  was  enchanting!  Wings  grew  out  of 
my  old  heart,  as  1  listened  to  that  smging.  Day  after  to-morrow 
all  the  people  were  to  have  shared  this  enjoyment  with  us  in  the 
temple  of  Isis.  It  would  have  inspired  such  enthusiasm  as  was 
never  felt  before!  Yesterday,  the  maiden's  whole  soul  was  in  the 
thing;  why,  even  this  morning  she  sung  that  lament  with  the  noble 
Gorgo  from  beginnmg  to  end.  To-morrow,  one  more  practicinir, 
and  then  these  two  young  ladies  would  have  made  such  music  as 
pi-obably  was  never  before  heard  in  the  old  temple  of  Isis." 

Constanline  had  listened  to  his  last  wonls  witii  increasing  chagrin. 
He  stood  close  beside  Goi-go,  and  while  the  rest  were  consultiiTg  as 
to  what  measures  should  be  taken  in  order  to  recover  the  fugitives, 
he  asked  his  beloved  in  a  low  voice,  with  lowerinsr  brow: 

"  You  thought  of  singing  in  the  temple  of  "isis?  Before  the 
whole  crowd,  and  with  a  creature  of  that  stamp?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  she,  firml)'. 

"  And  even  yesterday  you  knew  that  1  had  come  home?" 

She  nodded  assent. 

"And  still  you  could  practice  witii  tnat  actress  while  you  were 
waiting  for  me?" 

"Agnes  is  no  actress  like  the  other  one  who  played  with  your 

*  Nothing;  is  to  be  despaired  of 


SERA  PIS.  83 

helmet,"  replied  Gorgo;  and  tlic  strong  lineaments  of  her  dark  eye- 
brows contracted  defiantly.  "  Igavu  you  to  unrlerstaud  a  wliileago 
that  I  was  not  yet  yours.     As  yet,  we  serve  different  gods." 

"  Yes,"  he  exclaimed  so  loudly  that  tire  others  loolved  around  at 
him,  and  old  Damia  again  stirred  uneasily  in  her  arm-chair. 

Then  he  forcibly  restrained  himself,  looked  silently  down  for  a 
long  lime,  and  finally  whispered  to  the  young  lady: 

""l  have  suffered  enougli  for  one  day.  Consider  what  you  do, 
Gorgo;  God  save  me  from  despair!" 

80  saying,  he  bowed  before  the  young  lady  and  the  rest  of  Ihose 
assembled,  muttered  an  excuse  on  the  plea  of  being  called  away  by 
duty,  and  rapidly  retired. 

CHx\PTER  Xlll. 

The  horse-loving  frequenters  of  the  hippodrome  could  give  no 
tidings  as  to  Dada's  wuereabouts,  for  she  had  followed  no  frivolous 
young  man—  not  she. 

Shortly  after  the  slave  had  left  on  the  errand  after  her  shoes,  the 
singer  Medius  had  made  his  appearance  at  the  ship,  asking  to  speak 
with  fvarnis. 

He  had  ouly  come  to  persuade  Karnis  and  his  wife  to  let  Dada  do 
him  the  favor  to  appear  in  some  of  Posidonius'  entertainments. 
His  hope  of  success  had  been  small;  but  now  all  turned  out  exactly 
as  he  could  have  wished,  and  Dada's  desire  to  keep  her  tamily  igno- 
rant just  at  first  of  whtre  she  was,  came  very  opportunely  for  him. 

While  Karnis  luid  been  manager  of  tlie  Tauromenium  Theater, 
Medius  had  been  employed  there  as  leader  of  the  churus,  and  beeu 
the  recipient  of  many  an  act  of  kindness  from  the  hand  of  the  girl's 
uncle. 

These,  he  said  to  himself,  he  could  now  repay,  for  matters  went 
wretchedly  enough  with  the  old  man,  and  whatever  was  made  out  of 
so  brilliant  a  star  as  Dada,  should  be  honestly  shared  with  his  ben- 
efactor. No  harm  should  come  to  the  girl,  and  gold,  he  thought, 
still  shines  and  retains  its  value,  even  though  it  be  made  for  us 
against  our  wills. 

yince  Medius  was  a  provident  man,  he  induced  Dada  to  take  with 
her  the  new  rose-dress  and  the  ornaments  belonging  to  it,  and  his 
clever  fingers  packed  away  neatly  whatever  she  handed  him.  In 
the  basket  which  he  used  for  this  purpose,  he  laid  moreover  con- 
fectioner}', orangi'S,  and  pomegranates,  "  for  the  children  at  home," 
and  quickly  consoled  ihe  maiden  tor  the  loss  of  her  shoes.  He  would 
lead  the  ass,  and  she  should  rule  him.  A  veil  covered  her  face,  and 
her  little  bare  feet  were  safely  disposed  of  under  tbe  folds  of  her 
skirt. 

At  home,  the  first  thing  he  should  do  would  be  to  order  a  sweet 
little  pah-  of  sandals  for  her  from  the  same  shoemaker  who  worked 

for  the  wife  of and  the  governor's  daughter. 

Their  getting  off,  including  the  preparations  incident  thereto,  oc- 
cupied hut  a  lew  moments,  and  so  much  that  was  amusing  oc- 
curred in  the  hurry-scurry  of  the  hasty  retreat,  that  Dada  recovered 
her  spirits,  and  tripped  laughmgly  across  the  street  with  her  little 
bare  feet. 


84  SEKAPIS. 

In  wanton  mood  she  swung  ben  ell  up  on  the  little  gray  donkej''s 
back,  and  when  it  then  moved  forward,  and  she  liugired  up  Ihe  little 
basKet  holding  her  own  things  that  Medius  had  placed  between 
her  and  the  animal's  neck,  shesaid  that  they  would  take  hei  for  the 
young  wife  of  a  horrid  old  man,  carrying  home  her  marketing. 

With  mischievous  glee  she  pictured  to  herself  ilerse's  face 
when  she  should  discover  upon  her  return  home  that  it  was  possi- 
ble for  folks  to  find  their  way  al)road  without  shoes. 

"  Let  her  worry  about  me,  it  she  chooses  to!"  cried  she,  content- 
edly. "  Why  does  she  attribute  to  me  everything  ihat  is  silly  and 
bad?  But  this  1  tell  you  at  the  outset,  that  if  1  am  not  pleased  at 
your  house,  and  do  not  like  the  parts  1  have  to  perform,  then  you 
and  1  will  j)art  company  as  speedily  as  we  have  formed  one.  \Vhy 
do  3'ou  lead  me  through  such  mean  little  streets?  1  want  to  see 
everything,  and  ride  through  the  main  streets!" 

But  Medius  durst  not  gratify  this  wish,  for  in  the  great  avenues 
of  the  city's  tratfic  there  were  great  disturbances  to- day,  and  he 
might  account  himself  blessed  it  they  srot  safely  home  without  chal- 
lenge. 

His  humble  house  was  situated  on  a  square  between  the  Greek 
town  and  Rliakotis  the  Egyptian  quarter,  just  opposite  St.  Mark's 
church,  and  contained  room  enough  for  Medius,  his  wife,  his  wid- 
owed daughter  and  her  live  children,  although,  from  top  to  bottom, 
it  was  stulTed  and  hung  with  wonderful  objects. 

Dada's  curiosity  was  never  sated  here,  and  in  the  course  of  a  tew 
hours,  Medius'  pretty  grandchildren  hung  about  her  as  fondly  as  it 
they  had  been  old  friends. 

Agues,  the  Christian,  had  not  been  fortunate  enousfh  to  find  a 
home  so  easilj'^  and  quickly. 

Without  protector,  unveiled,  and  wholly  self  dependent,  she  hur- 
ried aimlessly  along,  holding  her  little  brother  by  the  hand. 

She  would  away,  only  away  from  those  who  threatened  her  with 
the  loss  of  eternal  salvation. 

She  knew  that  Karnis  had  bought  her  with  money,  that  she  was 
his  property.  According  to  Chiistian  doctrine,  too,  the  slave  owed 
obedience  to  his  master,  but  she  did  not  feel  as  if  she  were  a  slave, 
and  even  though  she  were,  the  master  had  a  right  to  the  service  of 
her  body,  but  not  her  soul. 

And  yet  the  law  was  on  the  singer's  side,  and  he  might  pursue 
and  capture  her. 

This  thought  would  not  forsake  her,  and  so  from  fear  of  the  po- 
lice, she  avoided  the  more  frequented  streets,  and  pressing  close  up 
to  the  houses,  passed  through  l)y-streets  and  lanes. 

She  had  once,  at  Antioch,  seen  how  a  runaway  slave  had  suc- 
ceeded in  leaching  and  touching  the  emperor's  statue,  and  found 
protection  from  his  pursuers. 

There  must  be  such  a  one  here:  but  where  was  it?  A  woman 
whom  she  questioned  directed  her  to  a  larger  street.  She  was  to 
follow  this  as  far  as  Canopian  Street,  which  she  was  to  cut  throiiuii, 
and  the  first  cross  street  lo  the  left  would  lead  her  out  upon  Uie 
great  Bruchian  Square,  where,  in  front  of  the  prefecture,  close  to  the 
bishop's  palace,  she  would  liua  the  new  statue  of  Theodosius. 


SERAPIS.  85 

Tbis  intelligence  and  the  mention  it  made  ot  the  bishop  gave  a 
netv  direction  to  her  course. 

To  dety  lier  master  and  run  away  jrom  him  was  wrong,  to  obey 
him  would  have  been  a  great  sin. 

Wuat  should  she  do,  what  leave  undone? 

Ihere  was  only  one  to  whom  she  could  turn  for  counsel,  only  one 
who  could  redeem  her  from  the  anguish  that  tormented  her,  viz., 
the  shepherd  ot  souls  for  this  city,  its  bishop. 

tshe,  too,  was  a  sheep  of  his  fold;  to  him,  to  him  only,  could  sh(!, 
must  she  turn! 

Tnis  thought  fell  like  a  ray  of  light  into  her  heart,  beclouded  aa 
it  was  by  doubt  and  fear.  Drawing  a  deep  sigh  of  relief,  she  drew 
her  little  brother  close  up  to  her— he  had  been  crying  bitterly  to  be 
taken  back  to  Dadu— and  told  him  that  they  were  gomg  to  a  good, 
good  man,  who  would  show  them  the  way  to  their  parents. 

But  the  child  did  not  want  to  go  to  that  man,  he  wanted  Dada. 

Sometimes  by  main  force,  sometimes  by  promises  and  entreaties, 
«he  had  to  drag  the  boy  along,  until  they  reached  Canopian  Street. 

Mere  it  swarmed  with  excited  multitudes,  here  there  were  soldiers 
afoot  and  on  horseback,  endeavoring  to  keep  the  peace,  and  all  thia 
piqued  the  child's  curiosity  and  distracted  his  mind  from  the  long- 
ings after  home  and  its  surroundings. 

When  Agnes  found  the  street  which  opened  upon  the  square  ot 
the  prefectiiie,  she  was  borne  away  by  the  stream  of  people  pressing 
forward  in  a  dense  mass.  To  turn  around  would  iiave  been  impos- 
sible here,  and  she  had  to  summon  up  all  the  strength  and  determi- 
nation left  in  her  to  prevent  being  separated  from  her  little  brother. 

Pressed  upon,  pusbed,  bantered  and  insulted  by  men,  and  severely 
scolded  by  women  for  dragging  a  child  along  with  her  in  such  a 
tumult,  sire  finally  arrived  at  the  square  that  she  sought. 

A  hideous  medley  of  dissonant  noises  grated  upon  her  keenly 
sensitive  ears.  She  would  have  fallen  to  tUe  earth  and  wept,  but 
her  eyes  kept  dry,  and  she  maintained  her  footing,  for  from  afar 
oft,  surmounting  a  lofty  portal,  she  saw  a  great,  gold  cross;  that 
beckoned  to  her  like  a  hand  outstretched  in  welcome  from  a  father's 
house,  and  beneath  its  protection  she  must  find  calm,  comfort,  and 
safety. 

But  how  should  she  get  there? 

The  vast  square  was  as  full  of  men  as  a  quiver  of  arrows.  One 
was  crowded  up  against  the  other.  To  move  forward  here  meant 
breaking  one's  way,  and  nine  tenths  ot  those  through  whom  she 
must  force  her  passage  were  men,  fiercely  excited,  raging  men,  men 
wliose  wild,  strange  appearance  aroused  in  the  spectator  horror  and 
disgust. 

The  most  part  were  monies,  who  had  streamed  hither  in  response 
to  the  bishop's  summons  from  the  caverns  and  cloisters,  from  the 
hermitages  and  cells  of  Colceunti  on  tie  Red  Sea,  and  even  from  the 
Uoper  Egyptian  Tabenna,  joining  together  their  rough  voices  in  the 
passionate  outcry: 

"Down  with  the  idols!  down  with  SerapisI  Death  to  all  the 
heathen!" 

These  hosts  ot  that  Saviour,  whose  character  was  goodness,  an^l 
whose  feeling  love,  seemed  to  have  deserted  his  bright  and  friendly 


86  SERAPIS. 

banner  for  the  blood}'  standard  of  murderous  hate.  The  disheveled 
liair  of  their  heads  and  beards  made  a  terrific  Iraming  for  excited 
luces  with  glowing  eyes. 

The  nakedness  of  "their  emaciated  or  bloated  bodies  was  sparsely 
covered  l)y  shacrgy  sheep  or  goat-skins,  scars  and  stripes  were  thick 
upon  tlieir  meager  limbs,  which  had  been  inflicted  by  the  thong 
haiiiiing  from  their  girdles. 

From  the  brow  of  that  one  called  "  the  crown-bearer,"  ran  red 
blood,  tor  just  to-day,  with  ostentatious  zeal,  he  Lad  pressed  into 
the  flesh  a  crovrn  ot  thorns,  that,  conformably  to  his  vow,  he  (hu>t 
not  lay  aside  day  or  night,  for,  in  his  own  body  he  wanted  to  bear 
about  a  peipetual  reminder  of  what  liis  Saviour's  sufferings  must 
have  been.  Another,  whom  tliey  called,  in  his  convent,  '■  Lillie 
Oil-jug,"  supported  himself  upon  the  two  standing  nearest  him,  for 
liis  meager  limbs  could  hardly  support  any  longer  tlie  swollen  body 
which  tor  nine  whole  years  had  received  no  other  nourishment  than 
slugs,  snails,  locusts,  and  Nile  water.  A  third  was  bound  to  his 
companion  by  a  heavy  chain.  They  dwelt  together  in  the  same  cave 
in  the  chalk  mountains  near  Lycopolis,  and  had  sworn  to  each  other 
to  deprive  one  another  of  sleep,  so  that  they  might  double  the  term 
of  their  penance,  and  for  the  hardest  privation  "known  on  this  side 
of  tlie  grave,  reap  twofold  enjoyment  in  the  world  to  come. 

All  lelt  that  they  were  fellow-combatants  in  the  same  strife.  The 
same  thought,  the  same  vehement  desire  moved  them  all. 

What  was  to  them  an  abomination,  what  threatened  hundreds  of 
thousands  with  ruin,  what  lured  Satan  to  maintain  his  kingdom  in 
this  world,  was  now  to  fall,  was  to  be  forever  anuihilated. 

In  their  eyes,  the  heathen  world  was  an  abandoned  woman,  and 
supposing  that  the  adornments  she  wore  were  beautiful  to  the  heart 
and  mind  of  fools,  nevertheless  it  must  be  torn  from  the  painted 
Jezebel.  They  would  continue  to  lash  her  away  from  the  ransomed 
eartli,  and  forever  cut  off  the  temptress  from  return  thillier. 

"Down  with  idols  !  Down  with  Serapis!  Down  with  the 
lieathen!"  was  bellowed  and  roared  around  Agnes;  but  just  when 
the  raging  multitude  yelled  loudest,  the  formot  a  tall,  majestic  man 
•was  seen  on  the  balcony  above  the  cross,  and  his  hand  waved  a 
gesture  of  peaceful  greeting  to  the  seething  crowd  below.  His 
manner  was  cool  and  dignified.  So  soon  as  he  extended  his  arm 
those  present  knelt,  and  Agnes  with  them. 

She  suspected,  nay,  she  knew,  that  yon  lordly  man  up  there  was 
the  bishop  whom  she  sought;  but  she  did  not  point  him  out  to 
Papias,  for  Theophilus  looked  far  more  like  a  proud  prince  than  the 
good,  kind  man  of  whom  she  had  spoken  to  him. 

She  could  never  dare  to  present  herself  before  this  grand  gentle- 
man. IIow  could  such  a  ruler  over  millions  ot  souls  find  thought 
and  time  for  her  and  her  little  concerns? 

But  in  his  retinue  there  must  be  many  presbyters  and  deacons, 
and  to  one  of  these  she  would  turn,  it  the  crowd  would  only  dis- 
perse and  let  her  make  her  way  to  the  door  with  the  cross  over  it. 

Twenty  times  had  she  striven  to  advance,  hut  with  wliat  poor  le- 
sult!  ISIost  of  the  monks  thrust  her  back  witli  abhorrence  when 
slie  tried  to  slip  past  them.  One,  upon  whose  arm  she  had  laid  her 
hand,  in  order  to  persuaile  him  to  move  aside,  had  shrieked  out,  as 


SERAPIS.  87 

though  a  snake  had  bitten  him;  and  when  the  crowd  had  pushed 
her  against  the  "  crown-bearer  "  he  too  thrust  her  away,  and  yelled 
out: 

"  Away  with  thee,  woman!  Touch  me  not,  thou  imp  of  Satan, 
thou  spawn  of  the  evil  one,  else  i  shall  tread  tbee  down!" 

±|"or  a  long  while  to  return  had  been  no  less  impossible  than  to 
press  forward,  and  so  passed  hours  that  seemed  to  her  like  long 
days.  And  nevertheless  she  felt  no  exhaustion — only  anguish 
and  disgust — and  stronger  than  any  other  feeling,  longing,  the 
keenest  longing,  to  reach  the  palace  and  speak  to  a  priest. 

The  sun  had  long  since  crossed  the  meridian,  when  something 
occurred  that,  striking  the  weeping  Papias  as  new  and  unusual, 
attiacted  him  and  diverted  his  mind  from  his  sorrows. 

Upon  the  balcony  ot  the  prefecture  Cynegius  showed  himself, 
the  emperor's  legate,  a  strongly-built  man  of  medium  height,  with 
the  round  head  "of  a  cunuiug'lawyer.  That  dignitary,  consul  and 
prefect  ot  tlie  whole  East,  nolonger  wore  the  woolen  toga  of  the  old 
Roman  pa'riciau,  wliich  was  wrajiped  about  the  bod}^  io  graceful 
folds,  but  a  l(<nfr,  close-litting  gown  of  purple  silk  brocaded  with 
gold  flowers.  On  his  shoulders  glittered  the  insignia  ot  his  high 
oiTices,  a  circular  ornament  of  a  peculiar  texture,  very  strung  and 
artistic.  He  greeted  tlie  crowd  witti  a  condescending  bow,  and 
after  a  herald  liad  thrice  sounded  the  trumpet,  Cynegius  pointed  to 
his  private  secretary,  who  had  followed  him;  this  official  straight- 
way opened  a  roll  and  culled  out  in  a  loud,  tar-reaching  voice, 
"  Quiet,  in  the  emperor's  name!" 

A  fourth  blast  ot  the  trumpet,  and  now  the  vast  square  was  so  still 
that  the  heavy  breathing  of  the  horses  of  the  guard  in  front  ot  the 
prefecture  could  be  distinctly  heard. 

"  In  the  name  of  the  emperor!"  repeated  the  officer  selected  to 
deliver  the  in:perial  mandate. 

Cynegius  bowed,  but  again  pointed  to  the  private  secretary,  and 
then  to  the  effigies  of  Ciesar  and  his  wife,  which,  on  the  two  sides 
of  the  balcony,  at  the  top  of  gilded  poles,  were  in  full  view  of  the 
assembled  throng,  and  that  officer  continued: 

"  Theodosius  Caesar,  through  his  trusted  envoy  and  servant, 
Cynegius,  sends  greetings  to  the  people  of  the  great  and  noble  city 
of  Alexandria.  He  knows  that  its  good  and  faithful  citizens  piously 
and  steiidfastly  confess  that  holy  laith  which  Peter,  the  prince  of 
the  apostles,  has  transmitted  to  believers;  it  is  known  to  him,  that 
they  are  orthodox  Christians,  and  cleave  to  the  doctrines  which  the 
Holy  Spirit  dictated  to  the  fathers  at  Nice.  Theodosius  C«sar, 
who  styles  himself  with  humility  and  pride,  the  sword  and  the 
shield,  Ihe  champion  and  defense  of  the  only  true  faith,  congratu- 
lates the  good  citizens  of.  the  great  anrl  nol)le  city  of  Alexandria, 
because,  in  their  majority,  thefhave  abjured  the  devilish  tenets  ot 
Arius  and  adhered  to  the  true  N iceue  creed;  and  makes  known  to 
them,  through  his  faithful  ana  honorable  Bervant  (Cynegius,  that 
this  and  no  other  faith  shall  prevail,  as  in  his  whole  empire,  so,  too, 
in  Alexandria.  As  througho"iit  all  his  dominions  so  also  henceforth 
in  Egypt  any  doctrine  opposed  to  this  true  faith  sl)aU  be  put  down 
by  law;  those  also,  who  cleave  to  any  other  doctrines,  profess  or 


propacate  them,  shall  be  reaarded  as  heretics,  and  treated  accord- 
in-ly/' 

The  jirivatc  secretary  had  to  pause,  for  loud  shouts  of  applause 
troni  tlie  assembled  multitude  interrupted  him  agaia  aud  again, 

Kot  a  note  of  disapproval  was  licard,  and  should  any  one  have 
dareit  uplift  it,  most  assuredly  he  would  uot  Have  escaped  scathless 
from  that  assembly. 

ISot  until  the  heiald  had  sounded  the  trumpet  several  times  did 
he  succeed  in  reading  further,  as  follows: 

"  To  Ihe  deep  concern  of  the  Christian  heart  of  your  Caesar  has 
it  come  to  his  ears,  that  the  old  idolatry  which  has  so  long  struck 
humanity  with  blindness,  and  held  it  aloot  from  the  gates  of  para- 
dise, still  possesses  temples  and  altars  through  the  stubborn  power 
of  the  devil's  followers.  INow,  because  it  was  repulsive  to  the  most 
merciful  and  Christian  heart  of  the  emperor  to  take  vengeance  upon 
the  posterity,  accomplices,  aud  companions  in  error  of  that  raging 
foe  to  our  holy  faith,  for  the  persecution  unto  death,  which  so 
many  sainted  martyrs  bave  suflered  throut;h  blood-thirsty  and  cruel 
j)agans,  since  forsooth  our  Lord  says,  '  Vengeance  is  mine,  1  will 
repay,'  therefDre,  Theodosius  CfEsar  has  only  decreed  that  in  this 
great  and  noble  city  of  Alexandiia  the  temples  of  heathen  idols  be 
closed,  their  images  destroyed,  aud  their  altars  overturned,  lie 
who  stains  himself  with  blood  sacrifices,  who  slaughters  an  innocent 
animal  as  a  victim,  he  who  enters  an  idolatrous  temple,  who  per- 
forms a  religious  service  there,  or  bows  down  to  the  image  ot  any 
idol,  yes,  whoever  puts  up  a  prayer  in  a  temple,  be  it  in  country  or 
town,  he  shall  be  subject  to  a  fine  of  fifteen  pounds  in  gold,  and  he 
who  has  knowledge  of  such  a  crime,  without  calling  public  atten- 
tion to  it,  shall  be  liable  tor  the  same  fine."* 

The  last  words  remained  inaudible,  for  a  jubilant  shout  shook 
the  air,  so  loud  and  unmeasured,  as  even  in  this  state  of  popular 
uproar  had  never  yet  been  heard. 

There  was  no  end  to  it,  and  no  blast  of  the  trumpet  could  drown 
it  this  time,  for  it  swept  through  the  streets  and  lanes,  and  over  the 
city  squares.  It  reached  to  the  ships  on  thelaUe,  it  penetrated  into 
the  houses  of  the  rich  and  the  huts  ot  the  poor;  yes,  it  was  faintly 
audible  to  the  watchman  who  trimmed  the  far  oft  lamps  of  the 
Pharian  lighthouse,  distinctly  visible  by  night;  and  in  an  incredibly 
short  space  ot  time,  the  whole  of  Alexandria  knew  that  the  emperor 
had  pronounced  sentence  against  the  heathen  worship. 
*  The  great,  fatal  news  had  penetrated  also  into  the  museum  and 
serapeum;  once  more  gathered  together  the  young  people,  who  had 
grown  up  in  heathenish  wisdom,  in  the  high  schools  of  Ihe  city, 
having  nourished  and  purified  their  spirts  at  the  noble  fount  of 
Greek  philosophy,  and  had  their  heaits  filled  with  enthusiasm  for 
the  good  and  the  beautiful  in  the  sense  ot  the  old  Greeks.  They 
answered  to  the  summons  of  their  teacher  01ymj>ius,  and  under  the 
gudiance  of  Orestes,  tlie  grammarian  —for  the  high-priest  himself 
had  to  make  preparations  for  the  defense  of  the  tSerapeum — and 
rusiied,  with  the  arms  held  in  reatliness  for  them  hy  Olympius,  be- 
neath banners  set  up  by  him,  to  the  square  fronting  the  prefecture; 

*  Codex  Theodosianus  xvi.,  10,  10. 


SERAPIS.  89 

in  order  to  chase  awaj'  the  monks,  and  send  Cynegius  back  to  his 
emperor,  with  the  reijuisilions  whicn  he  had  made  upon  Die 
lieathcn.  Youthful,  noble  figures,  clad  like  the  Hellenes,  when 
Athens  was  in  its  pristine  clor}^  hurried  hither  to  the  fray.  As 
they  dashed  alon<r  there  burst  from  their  lips  a  battle-song  of  Cal- 
liuus,  in  which  slight  alterations  had  been  made  lo  suit  their  case, 
nobody  knew  by  whom: 

"  How  long  j-e  youug  heroes?    What,  slumbering  yet? 
To  arouse  you,  the  heart  in  your  bosom  was  set! 
Does  shame  not  o Vrwhelm  you  ?    Youi-  foes,  see  appear ! 
Those  Christians  how  scorujfully  laugh,  mock,  and  jeerl" 

Whatever  opposed  them  they  overthrew.  Two  maniples  of  in- 
fantry who  held  the  approach  to  Konig  Street  by  the  way  ol  Bru- 
cliiiim  made  a  show  of  resistance,  but  they  could  not  withstand  the 
pressure  of  tiie  inspired  tbrong,  and  so  they  succeeded  in  gaining 
Caisareuin  street  and  the  square  fronting  the  prefecture. 

Here  they  sung  tlie  last  verse  of  the  summons  to  battle: 

"  Who  cowardly  from  his  duty  flies 

No  judge's  hand  shall  crown  with  bay. 
But  who  in  battle  bravely  dies 
Of  him  shall  unborn  nations  say: 
'  He  stood  for  us,  in  stormy  hom-, 
A  strong  defense,  like  to  a  tower."* 

Here  these  garlanded  youths  with  their  fine,  Greek  heads, 
Ihoughthil  brows,  anointed  locks,  redolent  of  perfume,  and  beauti- 
ful limbs  developed  in  the  gymnasium,  measured  their  strength 
with  lliose  dark  men  in  sheepskin,  those  pscetic  dreamers,  those  pen- 
itents grown  gray  under  fasting,  scourging,  and  mortifications  of 
the  flesh. 

These  opposed  themselves  to  the  oncoming  of  youth,  intoxicated 
by  enlhusastic  devotion  to  freedom  ot  thinking  and  inquiring,  to 
art  and  beauty. 

Both  s'ood  up  for  that  which  they  deemed  the  highest  good,  both 
were  e(]ually  sincere  in  their  conviction,  both  deemed  what  Ihey 
fought  for  dearer  and  more  precious  than  their  own  brief  span  of 
lite. 

But  the  heathen  youth  carried  swords,  while  the  monks  possessed 
only  one  weapon,  viz.,  the  scourge,  which  they  had  been  wont  to 
wield  not  against  others,  but  only  against  their  own  rebellious  tlesh. 

A  wild,  disorderly  wrestling  and  struggling  began,  in  which  ad- 
jurations and  psalm  singing  mingled  with  the  battle-song  ot  the 
heathen. 

Here  fell  a  wounded,  there  a  dead  monk,  yonder  a  tender,  beauti- 
fully formed  youth  was  struck  down  by  the  hard  fist  of  a  penitent. 
Breast  to  breast  wrestled  a  lecluse  with  the  young  scholar  who  had 
just  yesterday  begun  to  elucidate  the  new  Platonic  doctrines  before 
enthusiastic  auditors. 

And  in  the  midst  of  this  turmoil  stood  Agnes,  with  her  little 
brother,  who  had  pressea  close  up  to  her,  and  whose  tears  and  cries 
of  distress  had  hushed  for  very  horror. 

*  Brande's  book  of  Greek  eongs. 


90  SEKAPIS. 

Ac;ony,  intense  agony  bewildered  her  biain,  and  tortured  her  body 
as  tliouj^h  with  corporeal  pain,  that  began  at  her  heart,  and  radiated 
througli  every  fiber  ot  her  being. 

Already,  wholly  under  the  domination  ot  fright,  the  imperial 
mandate  had  fallen  upon  her  eats  witliout  its  meanmg  being  more 
than  half  comprehended.  Now  slie  kept  her  eyes  Ijist,  elmt,  and  iu 
her  stupefaction  neither  saw  or  heard  anything  ot  all  that  was  pass- 
ing around  her,  until,  in  her  close  proximity  new  noises  and  war- 
like clangor  touched  her  ear;  the  clattering  of  horses'  hoofs,  the 
blare  of  trumpets  and  ever  increasing  loud  shrieks  and  shouts  of 
murder! 

At  last,  at  last  it  became  quieter,  and  when  she  ventured  to  open 
her  eyes  again,  the  square  round  about  her  was  emptied  of  men,  as 
though  it  had  been  swept  by  unseen  hands.  Only  here  and  there 
lay  a  corpse,  and  in  the  Cfesareum  Street  there  was  still  a  dense 
throng;  but  this,  too.  retreated  further  and  further  bacli,  before  the 
advarice  of  a  troop  ot  mail-clad  cavalry-men. 

Now  she  drew  a  sigh  of  relief,  and  freed  the  boy's  head  from  the 
folds  of  her  skirt,  in 'which  she  had  buried  it  through  fright.  But 
the  end  of  horrors  had  not  come,  for  over  the  square  dashea,  in 
wild  flight,  a  crowd  of  young  students,  and  behind  these  a  company 
of  the  cuirassiers,  w^ho  had  parted  the  fighting  Christians  and 
heathen. 

The  pursued  raced  straight  toward  her,  and  again  she  closed  her 
eyes,  expecting  to  be  trodden  under  the  feet  of  the  rapidly  approaching 
horses.  A  fugitive  knocked  the  boy  down.  Then  for  the  first  time 
her  senses  completely  failed  her,  as  well  as  strength  to  stand  up,  and 
with  a  low  moan  she  sunk  lifeless  upon  the  dusty  flagstones.  Hard 
by  her,  over  her,  chased  pursuer  and  pursued;  then,  when  at  last- 
she  knew  not  after  how  long  a  time— she  opened  her  eyes  again,  it 
seemed  to  her  as  though  she  were  flying;  and  all  of  a  sudden  she 
became  aware  of  having  been  picked  up  by  a  warrior  and  being 
borne  on  his  strong  arms  like  a  child. 

Then  was  she  seized  with  shame  and  fresh  fear,  and  she  sought 
to  disengage  herself  from  him,  but  he  voluntarily  let  her  down,  and 
when  she  found  herself  standing  upon  her  feet,  and  found  that  she 
could  stand  alone,  she  cast  a  bewildered  glance  around,  and  sud- 
denly shrieked  hoarsely,  for  her  mouth  and  tongue  were  both 
parched:  "  Lord  Jesus,  where  is  my  brother?" 

With  this  shriek  she  pushed  back  the  thick  hair  from  her  brow, 
and  breathlessly  examined  her  surroundings  with  long  looks  of 
feverish  inquiry. 

She  found  herself  still  on  the  square,  close  up  to  the  door  of  the 
prefecliue;  a  horseman,  probably  the  servant  of  her  deliverer,  led 
by  the  bridle  close  beside  him  an  unencumbered  horse;  upon  tlie 
pavement  lay  gasping,  wounded  men.  ruaii-coated  soldiers  formed  a 
long,  ilouble  fence  on  the  side  next  Ca-sai-eum  Street;  but  of  little 
Papias  nothing  was  to  be  seen. 

Hereupon  she  cried  out  again,  and  this  time  with  such  deep  grief 
that  the  warriors  at  her  side  looked  upon  her  most  compassionately. 

"  Papias,  my  little  brother!  Oh,  my  savior,  my  savior!  where  is 
the  child?" 

"  We  shall  look  for  him,"  replied  the  soldier;  and  his  deep  voice 


SERAPIS.  91 

Bounded  mild  and  consoh'np^.    "  You  are  young  and  beautiful:  what 
led  you  into  that  crowd  at  such  a  time  ot  tumult?" 

Here  she  blushed  deeply,  cast  down  her  eyes,  and  Baid,  in  low 
\iurried  tones:  "  1  was  on  my  way  to  the  bishop." 

"At  an  evil  hour,"  replied  Constantine,  the  prefect,  who  had 
found  her,  apparently  lifeless,  on  the  square,  and  had  deemed  it 
advisable  not  to  I  rust"  the  safety  ot  this  j^racetul  young  creature  to 
any  of  his  men.  "  Thank  God  that  you  have  come  off  as  well  as 
you  have.  1  must  return  to  my  command.  Do  you  know  the 
bishop's  residence?  There  it  is,  and  as  for  your  little  brother- 
Wait!     Are  you  at  home  here  in  Alexandria?" 

"  No,  sir,"  answered  she,  timidly. 

"  But  you  are  living,  maybe,  with  relatives  or  friends?" 

"  No,  sir,  no.  1  am— 1  have—  You  know,  1  only  wanted  to  get 
to  the  bishop." 

"  Strange.  Try  your  chance,  then!  My  time  is  limited;  but 
later,  directly  afterward  1  have  to  speak  with  the  chief  of  police. 
How  old  is  the  boy?" 

"  Not  quite  six  years  .old  yet." 

"  Is  he  dark-haired,  like  you?" 

"  No,  sir.  fair-haired,"  and  a%  she  spoke,  tears  started  to  her  eyes. 
"  He  has  light,  curly  hair,  and  such  a  dear,  lovely  little  face." 

Here  the  prefect  nodded  smilingly  at  her,  and  questioned  hei' 
further: 

"  If  they  find  him— Papias  is  his  name— to  what  place  shall  tliey 
bring  him?" 
."1  do  not  know,  sir;  for— or — ray  head,  my  poor  head!    If  I 
only  knew—     Yes,  if  you  find  him,  then  bring  him  here  to  the 
bishop's." 

"  To  Theophilus?"  asked  the  officer  in  amazement. 

"  Ves.  yes,  even  to  him,"  answered  she  quickly.  "  Or — wait — 
bring  him  to  Ihe  bishop's  gate-keeper." 

"  That  is  less  distinguished,  but  might  be  more  advisable,"  an- 
swered the  warrior,  wlio,  beckoning  to  his  servant,  wrapped  his 
liorse's  bridle  around  his  hand,  vaulted  into  the  saddle,  waved  to 
her  with  his  hand,  and  galloped  back  to  his  troops  without  paying 
any  heed  to  her  modest  "  1  thank  you,  sir." 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  spacious  vestibule  of  the  episcopal  palace  was  alive  with 
human  activities.  Priests  and  monks  went  in  and  out,  widows, 
who  as  deaconesses  weie  in  attendance  with  bandages  ready  to  lid- 
minister  the  friendly  consolation  of  their  office,  and  acolytes  were 
lifting  the  wounded  and  placing  them  upon  stretchers,  in  order  to 
bear  them  to  the  hospitals. 

The  deacon  Eusebius,  young  Marcus'  old  instructor,  was  the 
leader  in  all  the  good  works  being  carried  on  here,  and  saw  to  it 
that  the  wounded  heathen  youth  received  equal  attention  with  the 
Christians. 

In  front  ot  the  palace  veterans  of  the  twenty-second  legion 
marched  up  nnd  down,  supplying  the  place  of  the  door-keeper,  who 
had  been  accustomed  to  stand  here  in  quiet  times. 


02  SERAPIS. 

Ai^nea  looked  around  !n  vain  for  such  an  one.  and  then,  with- 
out being  noticed  bj''  the  soldiers,  she  joined  the  company  ot  women 
ami  men  who  were  mininterlng  to  the  wants  of  the  sick. 

Siie  was  very  thirsty,  and  when  she  saw  one  of  the  widows  mix 
wine  and  water,  and  that  refreshing  draught  rejected  witli  ilisi;ust 
by  ibi'  wounded  man  tor  whom  it  «\'iis  meant,  she  pluclced  up  heait 
aii.l  asked  the  deaconess  to  spare  lier  a  little  swallow  ot  it. 

Tiie  one  ilius  appealed  to  immediately  ollered  her  the  cup,  and 
aslced  whom  she  had  come  to  .see  there. 

"  1  want  to  go  to  the  lord  bisliop,"  answered  Agnes;  but  she  re- 
flected, and  quickly  corrected  herself,  "  1  should  like  to  speak  to  the 
bishop's  door-keeper.'' 

"  There,"  said  the  widow,  pointing  out  to  her  the  gigantic  form 
ot  a  nu\n  who  slood  in  half  obscurity  at  the  extreme  rear  ot  the  ves- 
tibule. 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  the  maiden  remarked  that  it  was  already 
evening. 

If  night  came  on,  where  should  she  stay,  where  tind  shelter? 

Cold  chills  ran  over  her,  and  with  a  brief  "  Thank  you,"  she  went 
up  to  the  door-keeper  and  asked  him  please  to  receive  her  little 
brother  if  he  .should  be  brought  to  him. 

*'  Good,"  returned  the  giant  idndly.  "  If  he  is  brought  here  he 
sliall  be  carried  straight  to  the  orphanage  of  '  The  Good  Samaritan,' 
and  you  have  only  to  inquire  there." 

Now  the  girl  took  courage,  and  besrged  him  to  take  her  to  a  priest; 
but  the  door-keeper  directed  her  rather  to  the  churches,  tot  the 
ecclesiastics  about  the  bishop  had  plenty  of  work  on  their  hands  to- 
day, and  no  time  lett  for  trifles. 

Still  Agnes  persevered  in  urging  her  request,  until  finally  the 
otlier  lost  patience,  and  bade  her  go  her  ways.  Just  then  three 
ecclesiastics  passed  throuch  the  door,  before  which  Ihe  porter  had 
planted  himself,  so  as  to  block  up  the  way,  and  now  again  Agnes 
took  heart,  stei>ped  up  to  one  of  them — a  presbyter  in  advanced 
years — and  maile  an  earnest  appeal  to  him: 

"  Ah,  worlh}^  father,  1  implore  you  to  hear  me!  1  must  speak 
■with  a  priest;  and  that  man  there  drives  me  off,  and  says  none  of 
you  have  lime  left  for  me," 

"  Docs  he  say  that?"  asked  the  presbyter,  turning  and  indignantly 
addressing  the  jwrter:  "  The  Church  and  her  servants  are  never,  at 
any  hour,  too  busy  to  heed  the  call  ot  the  pious  souls  who  seek  them 
for  spiritual  aid.  1  shall  see  you  again,  presently,  brethren.  What 
Avould  you  have,  my  child?" 

"  1  am  so  lieavy  at  heart."  answered  Agnes,  lifting  up  eyes  and 
hands  imploringly  toward  the  priest.  "  1  love  my  Saviour;  but  can 
not  do  what  I  choose,  and  know  not  how  1  shall  act  so  as  to  escape 
falling  into  grievous  sin," 

"  Follow  me,  then,"  said  the  other,  going  in  advance  of  her, 
through  a  little  garden,  into  a  large  open  court. 

Then  he  entered  a  side  chamber,  whence  a  flight  of  stairs  led  into 
the  upper  story  of  the  palace. 

While  mounting  them,  her  heart  pulsated  in  anxious  and  yet  hope- 
ful excitement.     She  kept  her  hands  crossed  over  her  breast,  and 


tried  to  pray,  but  hardly  succeeded  for  (liiiiking  of  her  little  brother, 
aud  what  she  should  say  lo  the  presbyter. 

Preseutiy  they  reached  a  lofty  apartnu'nt,  wiieie  the  window-shut- 
ters were  already  closed,  aud  brauchin,!;-  lamps  burned  above  cush- 
ioned seats,  occupied  by  scribes,  men  of  various  ages. 

"  Here  we  are,"  said  the  presbyter,  droppino;  into  an  arm-chair 
quite  remote  from  the  scribes.  "  Lay  bare  jour  trouble  to  me,  but 
be  brief,  lor  1  am  neglecting  important  business  in  order  to  spare 
you  these  minutes." 

"  Well,  sir,"  began  Agnes,  "  1  am  of  tree  parentage,  our  home 
having  originally  been  in  Augusta  Irevirorum,*  My  father  was  a 
tax-gatlierer  under  the  imperial  government." 

"Well,  well:  but  does  that  belong  to  the  subject?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  yes.  Father  and  mother  were  good  Christians,  but 
were  killed  in  the  insurrection  at  Antioch — you  know  about  it,  three 
years  ago  it  happened— and  then  I  and  my  little  brother— Papias  is 
his  name — " 

•'  Well,  well—" 

"  And  then  they  sold  us  both.  My  master  gave  money  for  us;  1 
saw  him  do  it;  but  still  we  were  not  treated  as  slaves.  Now  they 
require  of  me,  for  they  are  heathen,  and  wholly  devoted  to—" 

"  So  they  ask  ot  you  idolatrous  things?" 

"  Yes,  worthy  father,  yes;  and  that  is  why  1  ran  away." 

"  Riglit,  right,  my  child." 

"  But  it  is  said  that  the  slave  shall  render  obedience  to  the  master, 
is  it  not?" 

"  To  be  sure;  but  our  Father  in  Heaven  has  precedence  over  our 
masters  in  the  flesh,  and  one  should  a  thousand  times  rather  break 
faith  Vvith  the  one  than  the  other." 

This  conversation  had  been  carried  on  in  low  tones,  in  considera- 
tion of  the  busy  men  at  the  desks;  out  as  he  uttered  those  last 
words  the  presbyter  had  spoken  louder,  and  they  must  have  been 
heard  in  the  adjoining  room,  too,  for  the  heavy,  plain  stuff  curtaiu 
was  drawn  back,  aud  a  voice  of  rare  power  and  depth  called  through 
tlie  opening: 

"  Back  already,  Irenseus?  That  suits  adraiiably;  1  have  some- 
thing lo  say  lo  you." 

"  Directly,  sir;  in  two  minutes  1  shall  be  at  your  service,"  re- 
turned the  other,  while  he  stood  up  and  said,  addressing  Agnes: 
"  You  know  now  what  your  duty  is.  And  il  youi  master  should 
liHve  you  apprehended  aud  require  you  to  observe  heathenish  prac- 
tices, helping  at  their  sacritices  or  such  like  matters,  then  you  will 
find  protection  trom  ua:  my  name  is  Irena^us." 

litre  the  presbyter  was  again  inteirupted;  for,  once  more  the  cur- 
tain had  opened,  and  this  time  a  man  bad  stepped  out  of  the  next 
room,  whom  iioljody  could  torget  that  had  ever  met  him  before. 

it  was  the  bishop,  whom  Agues  had  seen  upon  the  balcony,  and 
slie  recognized  him  immediaU-ly  and  moved  toward  him  on  her 
bended  knees,  that  she  might  humbly  kiss  the  hem  of  his  robe. 

Theophilus  accepted  this  homage,  and  measured  the  maiden  with 
bis  powertul  eyes;  tut  Agnes  dared  not  lift  hers,  for  there  was 


94  SERA  PIS. 

sometbing  overpowering  in  this  man's  presence.  Now  he  opcnetl 
his  lips  and  inquired,  while  he  pointed  to  As^nes  with  his  small 
hand : 

"  What  would  this  maiden  have?" 

"  The  child  ot  tree,  Christian  parents  from  Antioch,''  replied  the 
presbyter,  "  she  has  been  sold  to  idolaters:  was  asked  to  en,ir!iu;e 
in  itioiatrona  practices;  has  run  away  trom  her  master,  and  wo  aid 
now  consider — " 

"You  have  told  her  to  which  master  honor  is  due?"  said  the 
bishop,  cuttinsr  him  short  in  his  speech.  Then  he  turned  to  Agnes 
and  asked:  "  Why  did  you  turn  hither  and  not  to  the  deacon  ot 
your  church?" 

"  We  have  only  been  here  a  few  days,"  answered  the  maiden 
shyly,  and  now  she  ventured  to  lift  her  eyes  to  the  countenance  of 
this  prince  in  the  church,  whose  pale,  handsome  features  looked  as 
if  they  were  chiseled  out  of  fine  marble. 

"Then  go  to  the  holy  sacrament  at  St.  Mary's  Basilica,"  sug- 
gested the  bishop.  "  The  service  is  about  to  commence:  mean- 
while, however — you  are  a  stranger  here,  nave  run  away  from  your 
master,  and  are  very  young  for  such  a  case,  very —  Kight  is  com 
ing  on.     Where  do'you  expect  to  tind  lodgings?" 

^'  1  do  not  know,'"'  returned  Agnes,  and  tears  started  to  her  eyes. 

"  1  call  that  courage,"  murmured  Theophilus  to  the  presbyter, 
and  then  continued  as  he  again  turned  to  Agnes:  "Thank  the 
saints,  we  have  places  of  retuge  in  this  city  for  persons  in  ynur 
situation.  The  scribe  there  shafl  give  you  a  paper  that  will  procure 
you  admission  to  one.  From  Antioch,  are  you?  That  was  the 
asylum  ot  Selincus.     To  what  parish  did  your  parents  belong?" 

"  To  that  of  .lohn  the  Baptist." 

"  The  Baptist?    Where  Damascius  preaches?" 

"  Yes,  holy  father;  he  used  to  be  our  paslor." 

"  That  Arian?"  asked  the  bishop,  drawing  up  to  its  full  height 
his  comnianding  form,  and  firmly  compressing  his  lips,  while  the 
presbyter,  takins  his  cue,  asked  severely: 

"  And  yourself,  most  likely,  you  too  are  infected  with  the  Aiian 
heresy?" 

"  My  parents  were  Arians,"  answered  Asrues  with  embarrass- 
ment, "  and  taught  me  to  pray  to  the  god-like  Saviour." 

"  Enoufihl"  interposed  the  bishop,  shortly  and  sterulj'.  "  Come, 
Irena^us." 

So  saying,  he  beckoned  to  the  presbyter,  parted  the  curtain,  and 
retired,  with  lofty  dignity,  in  advance  of  the  other. 

Agnes  stood  there  as  though  struck  by  lightning,  pale,  trem- 
bling, hopeless. 

Was  she  then  no  Christian? 

Was  it  a  crime  for  the  child  to  share  her  parents'  belief? 

Were  those  who  had  just  held  out  a  saving  hand  to  her  only  to 
withdraw  it  so  inimically  and  abruptly,  were  they  C-hristians  in  the 
sense  of  the  all-merciful  Kedeemer  ot  the  world? 

There  fell  upon  her  soul  torturing  doubt  as  to  all  that  she  had 
hitherto  deemed  holy  and  immaculate,  doubt  as  to  everything,  only 
not  Christ  and  his  god-bke,  yea.  godly  goodness,  for  what  a  dilTer- 
ence  there  was  to  her  between  Him  and  this  man  pronouncing  such 


SERAPIS.  95 

harsh  sentence  against  his  tellow-man?  And,  in  the  agitation, 
grief  and  despair  lliat  had  taken  possession  of  her,  she  could  shed 
no  tears,  and  stood  there  motionless,  rooted,  and,  as  it  were,  spell- 
bound to  the  spot,  where  she  had  listened  to  the  bishop's  speecli. 

At  length  she  was  aroused  to  consciousness  by  the  squeaking 
voice  of  the  oldest  scribe,  who,  addressing  a  younger  assistant, 
called  out:  "  1  hat  girl  disturbs  me;  show  her  the  way  out,  Peter- 
bastis!" 

To  this  person,  a  handsome  young  Earyptian,  the  interruption  to 
work  which  had  been  prolonged  through  the  whole  day,  was  more 
than  welcome,  so  he  got  up  leisurely,  collected  his  writiug  materials, 
stroked  back  the  black  hair  which  in  vpriting  had  fallen  over  his 
forehead,  and  instead  of  the  stylus,  stuck  a  deep  blue  larkspur 
behind  his  ear.  Then  he  danced  up  to  the  door,  opened  it,  stared 
boldly  at  the  beautiful  girl  with  the  look  of  a  connoisseur,  gave 
her  a  passim;;  bow,  and  said  as  he  pointed  her  the  way  out: 

"  By  your  leave." 

Without  delay  and  with  bowed  head,  Agnes  left  the  writing- 
room;  but  the  Egyptian  slipped  after  her,  aud  as  soon  as  he  had 
closed  the  door  behind  him  lie  seized  her  hand  and  whispered: 

"  If  you  can  wait  a  short  half -hour,  my  dear,  then  I'll  take  you 
to  a  charming  place." 

She  had  paused  and  looked  at  him  questioningly,  for  she  had  not 
understood  his  meaning.  But,  emboldened  by  this,  he  had  lain  his 
arm  over  her  shoulder,  and  tried  to  embrace  her.  She  thrust  him 
from  her  like  some  repulsive  beast,  and  hurried  down  the  steps  as 
fast  as  her  feet  could  carry  her,  and  tnrough  the  little  garden, 
gained  the  spacious  vestibule. 

JVliauwhile  it  had  grown  dark  aud  quiet  there. 

Few  lamps  lighted  the  lofty  apartment  with  its  many  columns, 
and  the  flickerinl;;  glare  of  a  torch  fell  upon  the  benches  which  were 
set  there  for  waiting  clergy,  laity  and  supplicants. 

Exhausted  to  the  last  degree— she  herself  knew  not  Whether  from 
anguish  and  disillusion  or  from  weariness  and  hunger— she  sunk 
down  and  hid  lier  face  in  her  hands. 

During  her  absence  the  wounded  had  been  conveyed  to  the  hos- 
pitals. Only  one  they  had  not  ventured  to  move.  He  lay  on  a  cush- 
ion, between  two  pillars,  at  a  tolerable  distance  from  Agues,  and 
liie  light  of  a  lamp,  which  they  had  placed  on  the  medicine  chest, 
fell  upon  his  bloodless  features,  displaying  their  youthful  beauty. 

At  his  head  knelt  the  deaconess,  gazing  silently  into  the  still  face 
of  death.  Beside  the  deceased  lay  old  Eusebius  stretched  out  on  the 
ground,  and  pressing  his  face  against  the  sleeper's  breast,  never 
more  to  heave  with  the  breath  of  life. 

Only  two  sounds  broke  >he  deep  stillness  of  the  deserted  hall; 
these  were  the  low  moans  of  the  aged  man,  and  the  tread  of  the 
veterans  who  kept  watch  in  front  of  the  bi:3hop's  palace. 

The  widow,  with  folded  hands,  gazed  fixedly  upon  the  counte- 
nance of  the  dead,  and  did  not  disturb  the  deacon,  for  she  knew  that 
h(!  was  praying,  praying  for  the  safety  of  this  heathen  soul,  cut  off 
in  the  midst  ot  its  sins. 

After  some  long  mmutes  the  old  man  arose,  dr»^d  his  wet  eyes. 


96  SERAPIS. 

pressed  his  lips  upon  the  cold  Land  of  the  corpse,  and  then  said,  as 
he  pointed  to  his  tace: 

"  iSo  youug,  so  handsome,  a  cJicf  d'mtvre  of  Our  Heavenly 
Father's  skill.  Early  this  morning  an  exiiltant  lark,  the  delijiht  of 
a  niolher,  ana  now — and  now!  How  man}-  hopes,  how  much  warm 
happiness  is  extinguished  there!  Oh,  my  blessed  Saviour,  thou 
wlio  hast  sajd,  '  not  every  one  who  sailh  unto  me,  Lord,  Lord,  shall 
enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven,'  who  hast  shed  thine  own  blood 
tor  the  redemjiliou  of  the  heathen,  redeem,  save  me  this  one,  too. 
Thou  good  shepherd,  take  into  thine  arms  this  poor  lost  sheep!" 

In  deep,  passionate  sympathy,  the  old  man  lifted  up  both  arms, 
gazing  upward  a  long  time,  as  though  in  an  ecstasy  of  woe.  Then 
he  composed  himself  and  said: 

"  Good  sister,  do  you  know?  That  was  the  only  son  of  Berenice, 
the  widow  of  the  rich  ship-owner  Asck-piodore.  Tliat  poor,  poor, 
bereaved  mother!  Just  yesterday  he  drove  in  his  own  chariot  ancl 
lour  on  the  road  to  Marea,  outside  the  city  walls,  and  to-day— to- 
day !  Go  to  her  and  impart  the  dreadful  news  to  her.  1  would  go 
myself,  but  1  am  a  priest,  and  it  would  pain  her  to  receive  the  tragic 
tidings  through  one  of  us,  I  mean  one  of  those  against  wliom  ihe 
blinded  youth  drew  the  sword.  You  go  to  her,  then,  sister,  and 
touch  her  mother's  heart  softly,  very  softly,  and  if  she  will  listen, 
point  out  to  her,  prudently  point  out  to  her  that  there  is  one  with 
whom  balsam  may  be  found  for  every  wound,  and  that  we,  each 
and  all  who  believe  in  him,  lose  our  beloved  ones  only  to  find 
them  again.  Direct  her  to  hope.  Hope,  hope  rs  everything.  They 
call  hope  green,  for  it  brings  spring-time,  to  the  heart.  Perhaps  for 
her,  too,  there  will  come  a  fresh  spring.' 

The  deaconess  rose  to  her  feet,  imprinted  a  kiss  upon  the  eye  of 
the  dead,  promised  the  deacon  to  do  her  best,  and  was  soon  out  of 
sight. 

Eusebius,  too,  prepared  to  leave  the  vestibule  when  he  heard  the 
sound  of  low  weeping  coming  from  the  direction  of  the  benches. 
He  paused  to  listen,  shook  his  gray  head,  and  murmured  to  himself: 

"  Oh,  Lord,  thou  alone  kuowest  why  thou  hast  beset  the  rose  of 
this  existence  with  so  many  and  sharp  thorns!" 

Then  he  went  up  to  Agnes,  and  when  she  got  up  at  his  approach, 
he  said  kindly: 

"  Why  do  you  cry,  dear  child?  Have  you,  too,  your  dead  to 
weep?" 

"  No!"  replied  she,  quickly  waving  him  off  with  her  hand. 

"  But  what  do  you  seek  here  then  at  this  late  hour?" 

"  Nolhiniz:,  nothing,"  answered  she,  impulsively.  "  It  is  all  over! 
Dear  me,  dear  me,  how  long  have  1  been  sitting  here?  1  know,  1 
know,  that  1  must  be  gone." 

"  And  have  you  nobody  to  go  with  you?" 

She  shook  her  head  mournfully. 

Then  he  looked  at  her  more  closely,  and  said: 

"  Then  1  shall  take  you  home  with  me.  You  see  1  am  an  old 
man  and  a  priest.     Where  do  you  live,  my  child?" 

"  i — 1?"  stammered  Agnes,  anfl  with  liot  tears  gushing  from  her 
eyes,  she  ciied:  "  Oh,  God,  my  God,  whither  shall  1  turn?" 

*'  So  you  have  no  home,  no  place  of  refuge?"  inquired  the  old 


SEE  APIS.  97 

man.     "Trust  me,  child,  and  tell  me  candidly  what  afflicts  you; 
perhaps  1  may  know  how  to  help  you." 

"  You?"  asked  the  girl,  bitterly.  "  Are  not  you,  too,  one  of  the 
bishop's  presbyters?" 

"  1  am  a  deacon,  and  Theophilus  is  the  head  of  my  church;  but 
just  for  that  very  reason — " 

"No."  resumed  Agnes,  bitterly,  "I  want  to  deceive  no  one. 
My  parents  were  Arians,  and  because  their  faith  is  mine  the  bishop 
thrust  ine  from  him,  hardly,  and  without  pity." 

"  Ah,  indeed,"  said  Eusebius,  "  did  the  bishop  do  that?  Yes,  he, 
he  is  the  head  of  so  many  Christians,  and  must  ever  keep  the  great 
in  view,  and  the  small,  what  is  the  small  to  him?  But  1,  1  am  an 
insignificant  man,  and  the  inaividual  rests  on  my  heart.  You  see, 
child,  the  Master  has  said:  'In  my  father's  house  are  many  man- 
sions,' and  the  quaiter  in  which  Arius  sought  his  abode  is  not  my 
choice,  but  none  the  less  it  belongs  to  the  Father's  house.  It  is 
not  so  wrong  in  you,  after  all,  to  hold  fast  to  what  your  parents 
taught  you.  "  How  shall  1  call  you?" 
"  Agnes  is  my  name,  sir." 

"  That  means  a  lamb.  Beautiful,  beautiful!  1  love  that  name, 
and  because  1  am  a  shepherd,  although  a  very  humble  one,  let  me 
be  your  comforter.  Why  do  you  weep?  What  seek  you  here? 
How  comes  it  that  you  know  not  where  to  find  a  home?" 

All  this  Ihe  old  man  said  so  lovingly,  and  such  sincere  fervent 
sympathy  was  expressed  in  his  fatherly  manner  that  Agnes  began 
to  hope  again,  and  with  full  confidence  answered  all  the  questions 
that  he  had  put  to  her. 

With  many  a  hem,  hem!  and  "just  hear  that!"  Eusebius  list- 
ened to  her.  Then  he  invited  her  to  follow  him  home,  where  he 
knew  that  his  wife  would  find  a  little  corner  in  which  to  tuck  her 
away. 

She  joyfully  consented,  and  thanked  him  warmly,  when  he  or- 
dered the  porter  to  send  her  little  brother  to  him,  if  he  should  be 
bioiiglit  back. 

Calmed,  and  as  though  freed  from  a  heavy  burden,  she  followed 
her  new  friend  through  a  few  streets  and  lanes. 
Finally  he  stood  still  before  a  little  garden-gate,  and  said: 
"  Here  we  are.     What  we  have  we  give  gladly,  but  it  is  little, 
very  little.     Who  can  live  luxuriously  when  so  many  ot  their  fel- 
lows are  pining  in  misery  and  want?" 

While  they  walked  forward  between  two  narrow  flower  beds  the 
deacon  pointed  to  a  peach-tree  and  said: 

"  In  former  years  that  tree  lias  borne  as  many  as  three  hundred 
and  seven  peaches,  and  it  pays  tor  itself  well,  even  now." 

From  the  huml)le  dwellicrg  to  the  rear  of  the  garden  twinkled  a 
hospitable  light,  and  as  they  entered  the  small  front-yard  a  queer 
little  dog  limped  to  meet  hia  master  witli  glad  barks.  It  hopped 
along  quite  briskly  upon  its  fiontlegs,  but'its  back  had  been 'in- 
jured, and  one  hind  leg  liung  uselissly  suspt-nded  in  the  air. 

"  My  (riend  Lazarus,"  said  the  old  man,  cheerily;  "  1  found  the 
poor  little  beast  one  day  on  llie  street,  and  he,  too,  is  a  creature  of 
God;  as  tor  his  being  lame,  I  console  myself  with  that  verse  from 
4 


98  SERAPIS. 

one  of  the  psalms:  '  The  Lord  hath  no  pleasure  in  the  Btrength  of 
llie  horse,  nor  in  the  legs  of  a  man.'  " 

All  this  sounded  so  cheerful  and  pleasant  that  Agnes  had  to 
smile  with  him,  and  when,  after  waitrng  a  little  while,  she  received 
a  cordial  and  motherly  greeting  trom  tlie  deacon's  wife,  she  would 
have  felt  happier  than  for  a  lone;  time  if  anxiety  about  her  brother 
had  not  weighed  heavily  on  her  mind,  and  it  she  had  not  longed 
so  very  much  to  see  him. 

But  soon  even  this  care  was  hushed  for  the  time,  because  so 
worn  out  and  exhausted  was  she,  that  after  eating  only  a  tew 
mouthfuls,  she  had  lain  down  upon  the  neat  couch  prepared  for  her 
by  old  Elizabeth  and  immediately  fallen  asleep. 

She  was  restinc;  on  the  old  man's  bed,  who  expected  consequently 
to  pass  the  night  upon  a  small  sofa  in  his  study. 

The  husband  and  wife  no  sooner  found  themselves  alone,  than  the 
old  man  told  Elizabeth  how  he  had  found  Agnes,  and  wound  up  by 
saying: 

"  It  is  strange  about  those  Arians  and  other  heretical  Christians. 
1  can  not  think  so  badly  of  them,  if  they  only  hold  to  the  one  thing 
needful.  It  we  are  rieht— 1  believe  that  we  are—and  the  son  is 
equal  with  the  father,  Ihen  is  he  without  spot  or  blemish;  and  what 
were  more  divine  than  to  overlook  the  eiror  of  another,  if  it  relates 
to  our  own  person?  What  could  be  more  wretchedly  human  than 
to  be  angry  at  that  error,  and  take  cruel  vengeance  upon  Ihe  person 
who  commits  it?  Understand  me,  please.  Alas!  or  raiher,  God  b(! 
thanked.  I  have  not  risen  high,  down  here,  and  am  noihine;  but  r\ 
humble  deacon.  Now,  if  a  boy  were  to  come  and  take  me  for  an 
acolyte  or  something  so,  am  1  to  condemn  ani  punish  him  for  his 
mistake?  By  no  means!  And  our  Saviour,  metliinks,  is  much  too 
purely  divine,  to  hate  those  who  deem  Ilim  only  godlike.  He  is 
love  itself,  and  when  the  Arian  gets  to  heaven  and  beholds  Jesus 
Christ  in  the  whole  glorj'of  His  divinity,  and  falls  down  before  Him, 
full  of  rapture  and  penitence,  at  most,  the  Saviour  would  take  him 
by  the  car,  and  say:  '  Thou  fool!  thou  seest  now  who  1  am;  but 
thine  error  is  pardoned  thee!'  " 

Elizabeth  nodded  at  him  approvingly,  and  said:  "  That  is  so;  yes, 
it  will  be  just  so!  Did  Dur  Lord  thrust  the  adulteress  from  Himl* 
Have  we  not  the  parable  of  the  Good  Samaritan?  That  poor  girH 
We  have  always  wished  for  a  daughter;  now,  we  might  have  one, 
and  how  lovely  she  is!  God  graciously  gratifies  all  our  desires! 
But  you  must  be  tired,  old  man.     Go  to  rest  now!  ' 

"  Presently,  presently,"  replied  Eusebius;  but  at  the  same  mo- 
ment he  struck  upon  his  foreliead.  and  continued,  as  it  shocked  and 
vexed:  "  There  now,  in  all  this  trouble  I  have  quite  forgotten  what 
was  my  bounden  duty.  Marois!  He  is  still  like  a  person  pos- 
sessed, and  if  I  can  not  quiet  his  conscience  before  he  jroes  to  rest, 
no  good  will  come  of  it.  Tired  am  I,  very  tired;  but  duty  goes  be- 
fore rest.  Do  not  oppose  me,  mother.  Give  me  my  cloak.  1  must 
go  to  the  young  man." 

A  few  minutes  later  the  old  man  was  on  his  way  to  Canopian 
Street. 


SERAPIS. 


CHAPTER    XV. 


After  Constantine  left,  care  and  anguish  pressed  heavily  upon 
;he  house  ot  Porphyrius. 

Messenger  alter  messenger  had  appeared  to  summon  Olympius 
iway.  A  pagan  secretary  of  the  vice-regent  Evagrius  liad  betrayed 
i.lie  plot  ou  toot,  and  the  pliilosopbpr  forthwith  made  ready  to  depart. 
The  merchant  himself  gave  the  order  for  harnessing  the  horses  to 
\iis  close  "harmamaxa,"  and  undertook  to  convey  arms  and  ban- 
ners to  the  Serapeum.  The  magazine  where  these  were  stored  lay 
on  one  ot  his  estates,  in  the  Rbacotis,  at  the  back  of  a  wood-yard 
that  was  approachable  from  here  by  two  streets,  and  was  hidden 
from  the  views  of  passers  by  sheds  and  timber. 

The  old  aqueduct,  which  had  supplied  with  water  the  altars  and 
tiubeterranean  rooms  allotted  to  the  mysteries  of  Serapis,  had  passed 
hard  by  its  back  wall.  Since  its  removal,  under  the  Emperor  Juiian, 
the  subterranean  and  well-cemented  canal  had  been  dry,  and  allowed 
men,  in  a  stooping  posture,  to  reach  the  temple  unseen. 

This  hidden  passage  had,  just  a  short  time  before,  been  opened 
again,  and  was  now  to  be  used  for  conveying  arms  into  the  temple. 

Damia  had  been,  for  the  most  part,  a  silent  witness  to  the  engross- 
ing but  brief  interview  between  her  son  and  the  philosopher;  but 
every  now  and  then  she  coi'ld  not  forbear  throwing  in  between  the 
sentences  of  the  men  a  soft,  "  Earnest,  solemn  Earnest!"  or  an  em- 
phatic, "  That  is  right,  there  must  be  no  sparing!" 

Olympius  seemed  to  lind  it  peculiarly  hard  to  say  farewell,  this 
time,  and  when  the  merchant  held  out  his  hand  to  him,  he  drew 
him  to  his  bosom  and  said,  with  deep  emotion:  "  Thankyou,  friend; 
thank  you  for  much!  We  have  lived,  and  if  we  tall,  it  is  tor  the 
good  of  generations  yet  to  come.  What  would  existence  be  toi  us 
two,  with  the  scourge  and  torturing  scruples.  The  omens  are  not 
propitious,  and  if  everything  does  not  deceive,  we  are  on  the  thresh- 
old of  the  end.  What  lies  beyond,  we  philosophers  see  approach- 
ing with  equanimity.  The  everlasting  thinking  over  us  has  ordered 
all  things  so  beautifully,  that  we  may  well  believe  all  that  is  inscruta- 
ble to  our  minds  will  likewise  be  arranged  so  as  to  conduce  to  our 
best  good.  The  pinions  of  the  soul  move  more  freely  and  lightly, 
even  now,  at  the  bare  thought  of  the  time  when  they  shall  be  re- 
lieved of  the  weight  of  this  burdensome  body!" 

Then  the  high-priest  threw  his  arms  upward,  as  though  he  felt  a 
drawing  from  on  high,  and  pronounced  a  prayer  of  inspiring 
eloquence,  in  which  he  laid  before  the  gods  what  he  and  his  had 
done  tor  them,  and  vowed  a  sacrifice. 

All  this  sounded  so  exalted,  and  the  flow  of  his  speech  was  so 
pure  and  smooth,  that  the  merchant  ventured  not  to  interrupt  him, 
although  he  found  this  delay  on  tbe  part  of  the  leader  of  his  cause 
painful  and  unbearable. 

When  the  youthfully  emotionate  old  man  had,  at  last,  come  to  a 
close,  his  white  beard  was  bedewed  with  many  a  tear,  and  when  he 
saw  that  the  eyes  of  ueither  the  old  lady  nor  Gorgo  were  dry,  he 


100  SERAPIS. 

•would  willingly  have  besiun  to  talk  apain,  but  Porphyrius  only  al- 
lowed liim  time  to  put  Damia's  liand  to  liis  lips,  andto  whisper  to 
Gorgo:  "  You  wcie  born  in  a  time  of  excitement,  but  beneath  aus- 
picious signs.  Two  worlds  are  cominsr  into  cnllision.  Which  will 
conquer?     For  you,  darling,  1  have  only  one  wish:  be  happy!" 

Oiympius  had  left  the  hail,  but  still  the  rneichant  strode  thought 
fully  up  and  down;  and  as  his  eye,  in  passing,  caught  his  mother's, 
•which  impatiently  toUowed  him,  he  suicl,  without  looking  at  the  old 
lady,  half  to  himself:  "If  he  anticipates  such  an  end,  he,  who 
among  us  dare  hope  any  longer?" 

Hereupon  Damia  straightened  herself  up,  and  cried  out,  passion- 
ately: "  1?  1  dare  and  CHn  hope,  and  be  confident!  Shall  every- 
thing go  to  ruin  that  was  devised  and  fashioned  by  our  forefathers? 
shall  that  dark  superstition,  like  lava  over  the  city  of  Vesuvius, 
pour  down  over  the  whole  world,  and  bury  •whatever  in  it  is  light 
and  fair?  No!  a  thousand  times  no!  Perhaps  our  degenerate, 
cowardly  rare  (that  has  lost  courasre  for  fear  of  future  nothingness, 
and  the  power  to  enjoy  life)  may  be  voted  to  destruction,  as  in 
Deuclalion's  days.  Well,  then,  well!  What  must  come,  let  it  come! 
But  a  world  such  as  tliey  want  can  not  exist!  Suppose  their  mon- 
strous efforts  succeed,  and  they  lay  in  ashes  that  temple  of  temples, 
the  house  of  our  Serapis,  and  overthrow  the  image  of  that  great 
one?  Well!  Once  more,  1  say  well!  Then,  truly  will  it  be  done 
and  over  with  us,  with  all,  but  with  them,  too— with  them,  1  say." 

With  fierce  hatred  she  doubled  up  her  fist,  ami  then  continued, 
with  a  sigh:  "  1  know  whatl  know— there  are  indubitable  signs,  and 
1—1  understand  their  interpretation,  and  say  true,  indubitably  true 
it  is,  what  every  Alexandrian  child  has  learned  at  its  nurse's  breast, 
is,  tiiat  with  the  fall  of  Serapis,  the  earth  caves  in,  just  like  a  ball 
of  dry  earth  that  is  crushed  by  a  horse's  lioof.  A  hundred  oracles 
have  predicted  this,  it  is  written  by  the  stars  on  the  cnart  ot  the 
heavens,  and  inscribed  upon  the  book  of  fate.  Let  it,  let  it  be!  For- 
•ward,  only  move  ever  forward!  He  dies  sweetl.y,  who  departing,  his 
breast  pierced  by  his  own  sword,  beholds  his  enemy  in  like  case  with 
himself. 

Beside  herself,  with  a  rattling  in  her  throat,  and  gasping  for  breath, 
old  Damia  sunk  back;  but  she  soon  recovered  inGorgo'ssupi)orting 
arms,  and  no  sooner  had  her  eyes  unclosed  again,  than  she  called  to 
hei  son,  with  stronir  indignatiou:  "What,  still  here?  Is  time  so 
cheap?  Wait.  Will  j'ou  wait?  You  have  the  keys,  and  tliey  lack 
arms!" 

"  1  know  my  duty,"  retorted  the  merchant,  composedly.  "  One 
thing  after  the  other.  1  shall  have  been  long  on  the  spot  eie  the 
young  men  assemble.  Syiius  brings  the  signal  agreed  upon;  1  am 
dispatchin!.'  courier-s,  and  liien  it  will  be  time  to  leave." 

"  Couriers!     To  whomT?"  asked  Damia. 

"To  Barcas.  He  has  command  over  several  thousand  Lybian 
peasants  and  slaves.  The  other  is  to  the  Egyp'ian  Pachomius,  who 
is  enlisting  recruits  from  among  the  fishermen  and  country  people 
in  the  PJastern  Delta." 

"  1  know,  I  know.  Twenty  talents— Pacbeomius  needs  money — 
twenty  talents  from  my  coffer  it  tliey  are  here  in  good  time." 

"  Ten— thirty-told  luore  would  1  give,  weie  they  now  in  the  city!" 


SEEAPIS.  101 

exclaimed  tlie  merchant,  for  tlie  first  time  giviiig  outward  manites- 
lation  of  the  strong  feeling  with  which  he  was  penetrated. 

"  Wlien  I  enieied  into  life  my  own  father  dedicated  me  to  that 
superstition.  Still  1  wear  its  chains;  but  now,  at  this  crisis,  1  feel 
more  strongly  than  of  old;  will  show,  too,  that  1  know  how  to 
remain  loyal  to  the  old  gods.  "We  shall  not  be  found  lacking,  and 
yet  there  is  no  chance  of  safety,  if  the  imperialists  do  not  procrasti- 
nate, if  they  put  at  tlie  work  before  the  arrival  of  Barcas,  then  all  is 
lost;  on  the  contrary,  if  Barcas  comes,  if  he  comes  in  time,  then  may 
we  hope  that,  after  all,  everything  will  turnout  for  the  best.  What 
can  those  monks  do?  To  the  two  legions  of  the  garrison  only  the 
cuirassiers  of  our  Constnntine  have  been  added." 

"  Our?"  screeched  the  old  lady.  "  Whose,  1  ask,  whoseV  We, 
we  have  nothing  to  do  with  that  paltry  Christian!" 

Here  Gorgo  interrupted  the  enraged  old  lady,  and  exclaimed: 
"  Have  a  care,  grandmother;  have  a  care!  Consider  what  he  was 
to  us!     He  is  a  soldier,  and  must  do  his  duty  ;  but  he  loves  us!" 

"Us,  us?"  laughed  Damia.  "Did  he  declare  his  love  to  you 
awhile  ago?  Did  he?  And  you  only  believe  him,  simpleton!  1 
know  him,  know  him  well.  For  a  bit  of  bread,  a  sup  of  wine  from 
the  hand  of  his  priest,  he  would  plunge  us  all,  and  you  with  us,  into 
misery!     x\ti! — ah!  ihose  must  be  the  couriers!" 

Porphyrins  promptly  dispatched  the  young  men  who  had  entered 
the  hall,  then  clasped  Gorgo  gravely  and  fervently  in  his  arms,  and 
lastly  stooped  down  to  kiss  his  mother,  which  was  something  he 
had  not  doue  for  a  long  while  before. 

Then  Damia  let  her  crutch  fall,  pressed  her  hands  long  and  firmly 
upon  her  son's  temples,  and,  at  the  same  time,  murmured  many 
words,  some  of  them  seeming  to  be  the  heart's  outpourings,  others 
magical  incantations. 

The  ladies  were  alone,  and  for  a  long  time  both  kept  silence. 

The  old  woman  sat  crouched  up  Tn  her  arm-chair,  but  Gorgo 
leaned  her  back  against  the  pedestal  of  Plato's  bust,  and  looked  down 
thoughtfully.  FinallJ^  Damia  broke  the  stillness,  and  asked  to  be 
carried  into  the  women's  apartment. 

Gorgo  waved  her  back  with  her  band,  stepped  up  to  her,  and 
said,  impressively:  "  Not  yet,  mother.     You  must  hear  me  first." 

"  Hear  you?"  asked  the  old  lady,  with  a  shrug  of  her  shoulders. 

"  Yes,  mother.  1  have  never  deceived  you;  but  one  thing  1  have 
always  kept  hid  from  you,  because  1  was  not  certain  of  it  myself 
until  this  morning.     Now  1  am.     Now,  I  know  that  1  love  him. " 

"  That  Christian?"  asked  the  old  woman,  and,  with  a  violent 
movement,  she  pushed  back  the  shade  from  her  eyes. 

"  Yes,  him,  Constantino;  and  1  will  not,  may  not  hear  you  speak 
disrespectfully  of  him." 

Hereupon  the  old  woman  uttered  a  shrill  peal  of  laughter,  and 
cried  out,  scornfully:  "Ah,  indeed!  Then  shut  your  ears,  my 
pretty  one,  for  so  long  as  these  lips  stir — " 

"Hold,  grandmother,  hold!"  interposed  the  maiden.  "  Do  not 
impose  upon  me  more  than  1  can  buar.  Cupid  has  hit  me  of  late, 
as  he  does  other  girls,  and  he  did  it  only  once,  but  you  do  not  know 
how  deeply.  When  you  revile  him,  you  cut  into  the  wound,  and  so 
cruel  you  can  not  be.     Do  it  not,  1  beseech  you;  give  it  up,  else-^" 


102  SEKAPIS. 

"  Else?" 

"  Else  1  shall  die,  mother,  and  you  love  me  yet." 

Earnest  and  tender  at  the  same  time  was  the  sound  of  these 
words.  They  related  to  the  future,  but  this  seemed  spread  out  be- 
fore Gorge's  eyes  with  the  certainty  ot  what  is  already  past;  but 
Damia  cast  a  quick,  stolen  glance  upon  her  grandchild,  and  there- 
with a  slight  shudder  thrilled  her  frame;  for  a  divine  effulgence  was 
resting  on  the  maiden's  brow,  and  over  herself  there  stole  a  feeiing 
as  if  she  were  in  a  temple,  conscious  of  the  presence  ot  heavenly 
beings.  Gorgo  waited  in  vain  for  an  answer,  and  then,  inasmuch 
as  lier  grandmother  persisted  in  silence,  she  returned  to  the  pedestal 
where  she  had  leaned  before.  Finally  Damia  lifted  up  her  withered 
countenance,  looked  straight  at  her  and  asked:  "  A.nd  what  is  to 
come  of  it?" 

"  les,  what  is  to  come  ot  it?"  repeated  the  girl  despondently,  as 
she  shook  her  head.  "  1  ask  myself  and  can  not  find  the  answer, 
for  although  his  image  is  quite  near  me.  yet  high  walls  and  mount- 
ains, as  it  were,  rise  up  between  us.  That  image— his  image— per- 
haps 1  may  succeed  in  obliterating  it.  But  remain  and  revile  it, 
never!" 

Now  the  hoary-headed  old  woman  relapsed  into  a  fresh  leverie, 
and  her  lips  mechanically  repeated  Gorgo's  last  word,  at  ever  longer 
intervals,  until  at  last  almost  inaudibly  she  murmured,  "  never, 
never — no,  neverl" 

The  present  and  all  its  belongings  retreated  and  she  felt  revive 
again  pains  that  she  had  long  forgotten.  Shercmembeied  the  cruel 
day,  when  the  young  f  reedman,  that  noble  astronomer  and  philoso- 
pher, who  had  been  given  to  her  for  a  teacher,  and  whom  she  had 
loved  with  all  ihe  passion  of  her  ardent  nature,  on  her  account,  and 
because  he  hud  dared  to  aspire  to  her  hand,  had  been  expelled  from 
her  father's  house  and  by  slaves. 

She  had  been  compelled  to  renounce  him,  and  after  she  had  be- 
come the  wife  ot  another,  he  had  risen  to  fame  and  distinction;  yet 
she  had  given  him  no  token  that  he  still  dwelt  in  her  thoughts. 
Two-thirds  of  a  century  lay  between  the  present  and  those  blissfid 
and  yet  horrible  days.  He  had  long  since  departed  this  life,  and  slill 
she  had  not  forgotten  him,  and  now  tuo  thought  of  him.  A  strange 
power  of  double  sight  showed  to  her  her  own  person  as  she  had  been 
then,  and  the  image  of  her  granddaughter  Gorgo,  whom  she  saw 
not  with  her  natural  senses,  although  she  stood  just  opposite  to  her. 
The  two  swum  together,  and  the  same  pain  which  had  inibiltered  ihe 
soul  of  the  one  was  now  also  threatening  the  otlier.  But  she, 
Damia,  had  dragged  hers  with  her  through  long  decades,  like  that 
chain  with  the  iron  ball  which  holds  the  crimin'al  fast  to  the  bench 
of  oais,  and  accompanies  him  like  an  incorporate,  opjn-essive 
shadow  wherever  he  goes;  Gorgo's  sufferings  could  not  last  long, 
tor  she  saw  the  end  of  all  things  coming;  slowly,  but  with  inevitable 
certainty,  it  came  nearer  and  nearer. 

"When  had  enthusiastic  youth  and  hurriedly  assembled  country- 
folk even  been  able  to  make  an  effectual  stand  against  the  Koman 
soldiery? 

!5he  who  only  a  short  while  before  had  expressed  such  confidence 
to  her  sou,  now  beheld  the  emperor's  legions  rout  Olympius,  Barcas' 


SERAPTS.  103 

Lybians  and  Pachomius'  fishermen,  while  the  temple  of  Serapis 
■was  besieged  and  stormed.  Firebiands  were  hurled  inlo  its  hal- 
lowed halls,  its  roofs  were  hiokea  in,  its  ceilings  crumbling;  struck 
by  heavy  stones,  that  noble  work  of  Bryaxis,  the  God's  exalted 
statue  sunk  amid  clouds  of  choking  dust.  And  now,  now  from 
nature  rose  a  universal  wail,  as  though  she  had  endowed  with  voice 
every  star  in  the  firmament,  every  wave  of  the  sea,  every  leaf  on  the 
trees,  every  blade  of  grass  in  the  fields,  every  clifl;  on  the  seashore, 
every  grain  of  sand  in  the  boundless  desert;  and  this  woe!  woe  of 
the  world  was  drowned  by  peals  of  thunder,  such  as  no  mortal  ear 
had  ever  heard  before,  no  earthly  creature  could  endure. 

The  heavens  opened,  and  out  of  dense  darkness  poured  death- 
dealing  clouds  of  tire,  while  from  the  riven  lap  of  earth  darted  forth 
consuming  flames  which  leaped  up  to  the  very  dome  of  heaven. 
Everything  was  changed  into  fire  and  ashes,  what  had  been  air,  in 
its  heavy  tall  struck  the  aold  and  silver  of  the  stars  from  the  far-ofl: 
bell  of  the  heavens;  and  now  this  too  bowed,  bent,  and  broke,  bury- 
ing the  earth,  shivering  into  a  tho\isand  splinters.  Ashes,  ashes, 
gray,  choking,  dusty  ashes  tilled  the  world,  and  now  arose  a  hurri- 
cane, wildly  scattering  this  too  and  dispersing  it,  when  the  Nothing 
opened  its  huffe,  insatiate  mouth,  drinkinsr  in  thirsty,  mighty 
draughts,  whatever  more  was  left,  and,  instead  of  the  world  and 
the  gods,  men  and  iheir  works,  there  was  left  only  one  thing;  that 
horrible,  grisly,  incomprehensible  Nothing.  And  in,  about  and 
above  it — what  dimensions  however  could  have  nothing? — reigned  in 
cool,  unsympathetic,  self-sufiiciency  beyond  all  reality,  and  even  that 
thought  which  presupposes  a  plurality,  the  unimaginable  unity  of 
that  primordial  being  of  the  new  platonic  school  which  she  be- 
lieved in. 

Cold  chills  ran  over  old  Damia's  body,  followed  by  fever  heats  at 
this  thought,  but  she  believed  in  it,  and  would  believe  in  it.  The 
"  No  "  which  she  had  been  murmuring  to  herself  changed  imper- 
ceptibly upon  her  lips,  into  a  distinct  and  ever  louder  "  ISIothing." 

Gorgo  kept  her  eyes  fixed  upon  her  grandmother  as  though  spell- 
bound. 

What  had  come  over  her? 

What  signified  her  wandering  eyes,  the  rattling  in  her  throat,  the 
contortions  of  her  features,  the  convulsive  quivering  of  her  feet  and 
bands? 

Had  she  become  a  lunatic?  What  meant  that  Nothing,  that 
ghastly  Nothing,  which  she  was  perpetually  repeating? 

The  girl  could  bear  it  no  longer,  and  driven  by  toituring  anxiety, 
she  rushed  up  to  the  old  lady,  placed  her  ham!  upon  her  shoulder 
and  cried  out:  "  Mother,  grandmother,  wake  up!  What  mean  you 
by  that  dreadful  Nothing?" 

Upon  this  Damia  started,  shook  herself,  shuddering  slightly;  and 
asked,  at  first  in  a  hollow  tone,  but  then  with  an  enforced  cheerful- 
ness tliat  struck  Gorgo  as  yet  more  awful.  "  That  Nothing?  Did 
1  speak  then  of  that  Nothing,  my  pet?  You  are  sensible.  That 
Nothing!  ah!  You  loo  have  learned  to  think;  are  you  able  to  de- 
fine precisely  the  exact  meaning  of  the  idea  '  Nothing  '—the  monster 
you  know  has  neither  head  nor  tail,  face  nor  back— -1  say  are  you 
ready  to  determine  its  exact  limits?" 


104  SEHAPIS. 

"  What  is  the  use  ot  it,  mother?"  asked  Gorgo,  with  renewed 
Bolicitude. 

"  She  too  does  not  seize  and  apprehend  it,"  smiled  the  old  woman, 
absently  to  herselt.  "  And  nevertheless,  only  yesterday  ivlelampus 
was  saying  that  you  followed  his  lectures  on  conic  sections  more 
easil}'  tnan  many  a  male  student.  Yes,  darling,  1  too  once  upon  a 
time  stiulied  mathemiitics,  and  how  much  I  calculate  even  now,  in 
my  observatorj' ;  but  it  comes  ever  harder  to  me  to  conceive  of  what 
a  matiiemalical  point  is.  It  is  nothing,  and  yet  it  is  sonielhing.  But 
that  great  last  Nothing!  How  ioolish  it  sounds,  tor  that  Nothing 
cnn  be  neither  great  nor  small,  can  approach  neither  earlier  nor 
later.  Is  that  so,  my  dear?  Who  could  not  think  nothing;  out  to 
think  ot  that  Nothing  is  hard;  for  that  we  two  are  not  prepared. 
But  why  fash  our  brains  with  it?  We  need  only  wait  till  tomorrow 
or  the  day  after;  then  comes  something  tliat  will  reduce  our  own 
dear  persons,  and  this  excellent  world  to  what  we  can  not  even 
imagine  to-day.  That  Nothing  will  come:  1  hear  from  afar  oil  the 
iron  tread  of  that  airy  monster  without  body  and  feet.  A  droll 
giant  that,  smaller  than  the  mathematical  point  of  which  we  were 
speaking,  and  yet  great  beyond  measurement.  Yes,  yes!  Our 
spirit  has  long  polyp-like  arms,  and  can  embrace  that  monster  too; 
but  that  Nolhins:  he  reaches  with  more  difficulty  than  the  '  un- 
bounded '  and  'infinite.'  And  this  Nothing,  have  I  dreamed, 
comes  to  the  throne  now  and  opens  its  mouth,  its  toothless  jaws,  and 
gulps  us  all  down  into  the  maw  that  it  has  not,  all  of  us;  me  and 
you  and  your  prefect  together  with  the  good-for-nothing  town,  to- 
gether with  heaven  and  earth.  Wait,  only  wait!  Still  shines  the 
sublime  image  of  Serapis,  but  the  cross  casts  a  powerful  shadow; 
it  has  already  obscured  half  the  light  of  the  earth.  The  empeior — 
our  gods  are  an  abomination  to  him— Cyncgius  only  puts  his  wishes 
into  action." 

Here  Damia  was  interrupted,  for  the  steward  rushed  breathlessly 
Into  the  room  and  cried: 

"  Lost,  lost!  An  edict  of  Theodosius  shuts  up  all  the  temples  of 
the  gods,  and  the  cuirassiers  have  dispersed  our  men!" 

Hereupon  the  old  lady  shrieked:  "  Do  you  see  it  now?  Now  it 
is  coming.  The  oncoming  of  the  Nothing  has  begun.  Yes,  yes; 
your  cuirassiers  are  brave  troops!  They  dig  a  great,  great  grave! 
there  is  room  in  it  for  many;  for  you,  for  me.  and  tor  "themselves. 
and  tlieir  prefect  too.  Call  the  bearers,  man,  and  have  me  borne 
into  the  Gynajconius;*  when  1  get  there  tell  rae  what  has  happened." 

Arrivfd  in  the  women's  apartment  the  steward  imparted  all  the 
information  that  he  possessed.  It  sounded  melancholy  enough;  but 
one  thing  seemed  to  him  consolatory:  Oylmpius  wasin  theSerapeum 
and  had  begun  to  intrench  himself  there  with  a  great  host  ot  the 
faithful. 

Damia  was  min3ed  to  hope  no  more,  and  therefore  hardly  heeded 
this  intelligence;  but  over  Gorgo's  soul  this  e.xerted  a  powerful 
effect.  She  loved  Constantine  with  all  the  devotion  of  a  first,  only, 
long  pent-up  love.  Her  p:)ltry  suspicion  had  been  long  since  re- 
pented of,  and  it  would  have  cost  her  little  to  humble  her  pride, 

♦  The  private  apartment  assigned  the  ladies  of  the  family. 


SERAPIS.  105 

hasten  atfor  him,  and  make  apologies.  Bui  that  loyalty  to  the  gods, 
on  account  ot  whicli  he  harl  left  her  in  anger,  that  bhe  would  main- 
tain at  any  price,  ihat  she  durst  not  break  now  when  everything 
was  at  slake.  That  would  have  been  cowardly  desertion.  Yes,  if 
Olympius  conquered  then  she  could  go  to  him  and  say:  "  You  remain 
a  Christian  and  leave  me  my  childhood's  faith,  or  else  open  my 
soul  to  yours."  But  now,  now  her  part  was  to  subdue  her  heart's 
leaning  and  stand  steadfastly  at  the  postof  danger.  She  was  Greek 
to  the  core;  she  knew,  she  felt  this,  and  nevertheless  her  eye  had 
gleamed  with  pride  during  the  steward's  recital.  It  had  seemed  to 
her  as  though  she  saw  Constantine  before  her,  as,  at  the  head  of  his 
knights,  he  rushed  upon  the  heathen,  to  scatter  them,  like  a  flock 
of  sheep,  to  the  four  winds  of  heaven.  Her  heart  had  beaten  more 
warmly  in  behalf  of  the  foe  than  of  her  unhappy  friends.  The  lat- 
ter had  appeared  to  her  like  a  shaken  reed,  while  he  embodied  for 
her  all  that  was  strong. 

This  conflict  of  feelings  pained  her,  but  her  grandmother  had 
shown  her  the  way  in  which  they  could  be  accommodated. 

Wherever  he  commanded  there  perched  victory,  and  it  the  Chris- 
tians did  succeed  in  overturning  the  image  ot  Serapis,  then  the 
joints  ot  the  world  would  be  broken,  and  the  earth  cave  in.  She 
too  knew  the  oracles  and  writings  which  predicted  this  as  with  one 
voice,  she  had  heard  it  repeated  by  her  nurse,  by  the  workwomen  at 
the  loom,  by  worthy  men  and  keen-sighted  philosophers;  and  tor 
her  the  horrible  that  impended,  involved  the  solution  of  every  puz- 
zling contnidiction,  the  bitier-sweet  hope  ot  perishing  with  him. 

When  it  was  growing  dark  the  inspector  of  sacrifices  appeared, 
wliose  daily  duty  it  was  to  examine  the  entrails  of  an  animal  tor 
Damia,  and  their  aspect  was  so  unfavorable  that  he  feared  to  report 
what  he  had  found. 

The  old  lady  had  known  it  beforehand,  took  it  coolly  and  had  her- 
self carried  to  the  observatory,  in  order  presently  to  consult  the  stars. 
Gorgo  remained  in  the  women's  apaitment  for  a  long  while  alone. 
From  the  rooms  adjoining  this  sounded  the  monotonous  clatter  of 
looms,  at  which  many  women  were  at  work,  to-day  as  ever. 
Suddenly  it  ceased. 

Damia  had  sent  word  to  her  female  slaves  from  the  watch-tower, 
that  they  might  stop  work  and  rest  the  next  day  if  they  chose. 
According  to  her  orders  wine  was  to  be  shared  out  to  them  in  the 
great  servants'  hall,  as  generously  too  as  on  the  great  Dionysian 
feast. 

It  grew  right  quiet  now  in  the  Gynteconitis.  There  lay  the  gar- 
lands of  flowers  which  she  herself  had  woven  with  her  young 
friends  for  the  purpose  of  decorating  to-morrow  the  temple  of 
Ic'!g.  The  steward  had  informed  her,  that  this  venerated  sanctuary 
was  closed,  and  had  been  occupied  by  soldiers. 

So  it  was  all  over  with  the  festival,  and  she  might  have  found  it 
in  her  heart  to  rejoice  at  this,  because  it  relieved  lier  ot  the  necessity 
to  offend  Consta'nline;  but  now  she  ihouchl  again  with  subdued 
melancholy  of  the  friendly  goddess,  in  whose  beautiful  temple  she 
had  so  often  found  comfort  and  enlivennient.  She  reminded  herself 
of  the  lime,  when,  as  a  little  girl,  she  had  plucked  the  first  flowers 
from  her  own  parterre,  and  had  stuck  it  in  the  ground  beside  the 


106  SERAPIS. 

tountain,  from  which  water  was  procurecl  for  libations.  With  her 
own  money  slie  had  bouRht  rare  peituraes  wherewith  to  anoint  the 
altar  of  Isis,  and  when  she  iiad  been  heavy  ot  heart,  relief  had  come 
to  her  in  prayer  offered  up  before  the  goddess'  marble  image.  iJow 
glorious  had  been  the  feasts  held  in  the  honor  of  Isis;  with  what  a 
glad,  full  heart  had  she  herself  joiued  in  those  songs.  The  most  of 
the  poetry  and  exaltation  of  spirit  that  had  been  hers  in  childhood 
were  associated  with  Isis  and  her  temple.  And  now  they  had 
closed  it,  and  the  image  of  the  heavenly  probably  even  now  lay 
shattered  in  the  dust. 

Gorgo  knew  all  those  lofty  ideas  upon  which  the  worship  of  the 
goddess  was  founded,  but  she  had  never  turned  in  praj'er  to  them, 
but  only  to  the  statue,  in  whose  magical  power  she  confided. 

What  had  happened  noiv  to  isis  and  her  sanctuary  might  sooa 
happen  to  Serapis  and  his. 

This  grieved  her,  tor  she  had  been  accustomed  to  deem  the  tem- 
ple of  this  god  as  the  heart  of  the  world,  the  center  of  gravity,  which 
maintains  the  equilibrium  of  all  cosraical  life,  and  Serapis  himself 
was  inseparable  from  his  abode,  filled  with  magical  and  mystical 
powers. 

All  the  prophecies,  all  the  Sibylline  sayings,  all  the  oracles  lied, 
if  the  downfall  of  his  image  remained  unpunished,  if  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  earth  did  not  follow  it  just  as  surel}'  as  the  breakage  of 
a  dam  causes  the  overflow  of  the  land.  And  how  could  it  be  other- 
wise after  the  explanation  which  her  new  Platonic  teacher  had  given 
her  of  the  nature  of  God! 

Kot  like  an  overflowing  vessel  did  Serapis  pour  out,  but  that 
great,  unapproachable  one  exalted  above  all  being  and  imagination, 
lor  whose  gieatness  every  name  was  too  small;  the  transcendently 
good  and  beautiful  in  which  'all  was  and  will  be,  that  is  it,  the 
quintessence  ot  that  which  is  called  godly,  and  out  of  this  abundance 
originated  the  godly  thinking,  the  pure  thought,  that  pertains  to  the 
one,  as  light  to  the  sun. 

This  thinking  with  its  life— this,  too,  not  in  time,  but  eternity — 
could  move  or  rest  at  pleasure;  it  comprehended  a  plurality,  while 
the  one  was  only  one,  and  completely  indivisible,  could  only  re- 
main one. 

The  idea  of  each  living  being  came  from  the  second,  the  eternal 
thought,  and  tnis  all-animating,  quickening  power  of  thought  in- 
cluded all  the  original  forms  of  beings  endued  with  life,  compre- 
hending the  immortal  gods  themselves;  their  ideas,  their  original 
forms  only,  not  themselves.  And  as  eternal  thought  emanated 
from  the  one,  so  from  him  emanated  as  a  third  the  soul  of  the 
world,  whose  double  nature  touched  here  upon  eternal,  lofty 
thought,  there  upon  the  lower  material  world.  She  was  the 
heavenly  Aphrodite,  who  rocked  herself  blissfully  in  the  pure 
splendor  of  the  bright  world  of  thought,  and  could  not  free  herself 
from  the  dust  of  the  corporeal,  viz.,  matter,  on  which  the  senses 
fasten,  and  in  which  sin  conceals  itself. 

The  head  of  Serapis  was  that  eternul  thought,  in  his  broad  breast 
rested  the  soul  of  all,  and  the  fullness  of  the  originals  of  every 
created  thing.  The  exterior  world  served  him  tor  a  footstool. 
That  mighty  creative  power  served  him  which  soaicd  up  to  the  in- 


SERAPIS.  107 

comprehensible  and  unimaginable  One.  as  did  also  the  subject 
powers.  He  was  the  sum  of  all,  the  totality  ot  the  created,  and  at 
the  same  time  also  the  power  which  inspired  and  animated,  guard- 
ing it  from  destruction  by  perpetual  renovation.  His  power  kept 
in^harmonious  accord  the  manifold  divisions  of  the  material  and 
immaterial  universe. 

Whatever  was  animated,  inspired  nature  as  well  as  inspired  man, 
were  inseparably  connected  with  him. 

If  he,  if  Serapis  fell,  then  would  the  key  to  the  arch  of  the  uni- 
verse be  destroyed,  and  with  it  "  the  sum  of  all,"  nay  the  all  itself 
ceased  to  be. 

What  was  left,  was  not  that  nothing,  of  which  her  grandmother 
spoke;  it  was  the  One,  the  cold,  beingless,  unintellisible  One. 

With  the  fall  of  Seiapis  came  the  world  to  nought,  and  perhaps 
it  would  please  him,  out  ot  his  superabundance,  to  cull  into  being 
another  world  for  other  strange  crealures  of  the  future. 

From  such  thoas2;hts  Gorgo  was  startled  by  a  terrible  noise,  that, 
proceeding  from  the  remote  quarters  alloted  the  slaves,  penetrated 
easily  the  ladies'  apartment.  Could  her  grandmother  have  opened 
too  freely  to  them  her  wine-cellar;  were  those  unhappy  creatures 
already  madly  drunK?  But  n^!  Not  thus  sounded  the  merry-mak- 
ing of  slaves,  who,  under  yoke  to  Dionysus,  forgot  the  present  and 
gave  unbridled  expression  to  their  delight. 

She  listened,  and  now  distinguished  the  mourner's  howl,  and  pas- 
sionate lamt  ntations.  Something  terrible  must  have  occurred.  Had 
her  fattier  met  with  an  accident? 

Deeply  solicitous,  slie  hurried  across  the  court  till  she  came  to  the 
servants'  quarters.  Servants  of  all  classes  were  behaving  as  if  they 
had  lost  tbeir  senses.  Disheveled  hair  covered  the  faces  of  the  wom- 
men,  and  howling  they  beat  their  breasts;  the  men  sat  crouched  up 
before  the  untasted  pitchers,  and  wept  in  silence. 

What  sorrow  hati  fallen  upon  their  household? 

Gorgo  called  up  her  nurse,  and  now  learned  from  her  that  the 
augur  had  reported  soldiers  drawn  up  in  array  before  the  Serapeum, 
and  moreover  that  the  emperor  had  commanded  the  prefect  of  the 
East  to  lay  hands  upon  the  temple  of  the  king  of  gods.  To-day  or 
to-morrow  that  monstrous  event  was  to  take  place.  They  must  pray 
and  repent  of  their  sins,  for  with  the  downfall  of  the  holiest  of  all 
holies  will  be  involved  that  of  the  whole  earlh  too.  The  entrails  of 
the  sacrificial  victim  offered  by  Damia  had  been  black  and  gan- 
grenous, and  from  the  breast  of  the  god  in  the  holiest  of  all  has 
issued  an  awful  lament.  The  columns  in  the  great  Jiypostyle  had 
trembled,  and  the  three  heads  of  Cerberus,  at  the  feet  of  Seiapis, 
had  opened  their  jaws. 

Gorgo  listened  to  her  old  nurse  in  silence,  and  made  only  this  an- 
swer:   "  Let  them  mourn  1" 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

The  day  had  passed  away  rapidly  enough  to  Dada  in  the  house 
of  Medius;  for  there  had  been  various  costumes  and  most  wonder- 
ful stage-scenery  to  be  looked  at,  the  children  had  been  lively  and 


108  SERAPIS. 

sociable,  and  playing  with  them  had  pleased  her  peculiarly,  since 
all  her  little  tricks  and  songs  with  which  Papias  had  Jong  been 
familiar  met  with  great  applause  from  them. 

It  entertained  her  also,  to  investigate  wherein  consisted  the 
domestic  grief  by  wiiich  the  singer  had  represented  himselt  as 
victimized,  to  her  toster-parents. 

Medius  was  one  of  those,  who  buy  all  that  strikes  them  as  espe- 
cially cneap,  and  so,  this  morning,  in  tlie  harbor  Kibotus  he  had 
chanced  to  be  present  at  an  auction  sale  of  herrings,  and  pmchased 
a  great  tun  full  of  salt  tish  for  "  a  mere  song."  These  goods  belnj^ 
now  delivered,  his  wife  fell  into  a  great  rage,  which  she  expended 
in  the  first  place  upon  the  unfoitunate  carrier,  and  then  upon  the 
guilty  purchaser.  Each  of  them  (so  she  caciilated)  must  needs  be 
a  hundred  years  old  before  the  bottom  of  the  tun  should  be  seen 
and  the  last  herring  eaten  up. 

The  singer,  on  the  other  hand,  showed  the  monstrous  error  of  her 
calculation,  eagerly  emphasizing  the  point  that  the  very  healthy 
nourishment  furnished  by  this  excellent  fish,  was  certainly  fitted  to 
prolong  indehnitely  the  lives  of  ihe  whole  family. 

These  reckonings,  which  were  by  no  means  made  in  sport, 
amused  Dada  far  more  than  the  tablets,  cylinders  and  balls  covered 
with  figures  and  cabalistic  signs  to  which  Medius  desired  to  diaw 
her  attention.  In  the  midst  of  his  eaaer  explanations,  she  ran  ofE 
from  him  and  began  to  show  his  grandchildren  how  ji  little  rabbit 
snuflies  when  a  cabbage-leaf  is  oflered  to  him,  and  how  he  moves 
his  ears. 

The  account  of  the  occurrences  in  front  of  the  prefecture,  which 
reached  Medius  in  the  afternoon,  disturbed  him  greatly  and  drovo 
him  light  away  into  the  town. 

Toward  evening  he  came  home,  an  altered  man.  He  must  have 
learned  something  horrible;  for  his  countenance  was  ashy  pale,  and 
the  usual  assurance  of  his  manner  had  been  replaced  by  a  troubled, 
disconceited  air  destressing  to  behold. 

Sometimes  he  walked  up  and  down,  uttering  groan  after  groan, 
then  he  threw  himself  on  the  sofa,  gazing  fixedly  at  the  ceiling,  and 
again  he  would  run  into  the  vestibule,  and  from  there  peep  cau- 
tiously out  upon  the  street. 

Dada's  presence  seemed  suddenly  to  have  grown  irksome  to  him, 
and  the  considerate  girl  immediately  perceived  this,  and  she  declared 
to  him,  without  circumlocution,  that  she  would  like  to  go  back  to  her 
friends — the  sooner  the  better,  llereupon  he  slirucged  his  shoulders 
and  sighed:  "  Do  as  you  choose.  So  far  as  1  am  concerned,  you 
can  stay  either:  it  is  all  one!" 

Up  to  this  point  his  wife  had  taken  no  notice  of  his  proceedings, 
for  hp  was  ever  eccentric  and  often  violent,  if  8n3dhing  crossed 
him;  but  now  she  wanted  to  know,  williout  any  concealments,  what 
had  come  over  him,  and  he  forthwith  gratified  her  wish.  He  did 
not  want  to  distress  the  ladies  any  sooner  than  he  could  help,  l)ut  it 
had  to  be  told  some  time:  Cyncgiiis  had  cone  to  destroy  the  image 
of  Serapis,  and  what  would  hapoen  then  she  knew  herself.  "  To- 
da}',"  lie  cried,  "  we  live;  but  to-morrow — a  thousand  to  one — to- 
morrow joy  is  at  an  end,  and  the  earth  swallows  up  the  old  nest  and 
ourselves  in  it." 


SEKAPIS.  109 

These  words  fell  upon  receptive  soil.  The  singer's  wife  and 
daughter  were  terribly  shocked,  and  since  it  pleased  Medius  to 
depict  the  approaching  ruin  in  so  much  the  more  vivid  colors,  as  he 
saw  that  his  words  produced  a  deeper  impression,  they  soon  began 
to  whimper,  and  then  burst  into  loud  wails  ot  griet.  When  the 
children,  who  had  been  carried  into  the  sleeping- room,  heard  the 
lamentations  of  the  grown  people,  they  imitated  them,  and  Dada  too 
soon  caught  the  infection.  As  for  Medius,  his  own  eloquent  repre- 
sentation ot  the  threatening  end  of  the  world  had  made  so  profound 
an  impression  on  himself  that  he  completely  gave  up  his  boasted 
character  of  a  "  strong  mind,"  and  his  lavonte  saying  that  every- 
thing called  God  has  been  desigoingly  invented  by  priests  and 
princes  to  take  advantage  of  ignorant  men,  and  forced  upon  these 
forsooth  in  order  to  subsidize  them,  until  finally  he  was  heard  to 
whisper  prayers,  and  dived  deep  into  his  purse,  when  his  wife  asked 
for  leave  to  sacrifice  a  black  lamb  the  next  morning  in  partnership 
with  one  of  her  neighbors. 

SI  ep  forsook  all  eyes  that  night.  Dada  found  the  singer's  house 
intolerable.  Perhaps  Medius  only  imagined  such  horrible  things, 
but  if  ruin  really  was  coming,  she  would  a  thousand  times  rather 
perish  with  her  own  people  than  in  company  with  this  family,  some- 
how— she  could  not  herself  say  why—peculiarly  uncongenial  to 
herself.  Sbe  expressed  her  wish  to  her  host,  the  following  morn- 
ing, and  he  forthwith  made  ready  to  escort  her  back  to  Karnis. 

In  the  first  place,  he  could  not  make  the  use  of  her  that  he  had 
expected.  He  was  in  tlie  service  of  the  great  magician  and  con- 
jurer Posidonius,  to  whom  half  the  city  ot  Alexandria  resorted. 
Christians,  Jews,  and  heathen,  in  order  to  hold  intercourse  with  the 
departed,  with  gods  and  demons;  to  gain  ways  and  means  for  at- 
tracting love  and  iujuriug  one's  enemies;  to  learn  th*^  art  ot  making 
one's  self  invisible  and  discerning  the  future  through  his  instru- 
mentality. 

Dada  was  to  have  made  her  first  appearance,  in  his  master's  be- 
half, before  a  matron,  as  the  glorified  spirit  ot  her  deceased  daugh- 
ter; but,  m  consequence  of  the  recent  disturbances  in  the  city,  this 
ricli  lady  had  gone  into  the  country,  yesterday,  at  noon.  Also,  of 
the  other  patrons  of  his  chief  it  was  not  to  be  expected,  even  if  affairs 
turned  out  more  favorably  than  could  be  anticipated,  that  they 
would  venture  forth  upon  the  street  by  night.  These  rich  gentle- 
folk were  so  cowardly  and  circumspect,  and  inasmuch  as  the  em- 
peror besides  had  issued  some  new  and  stronger  edicts  against  magic, 
the  magician  himself  deemed  it  advisable  to  postpone  the  sittings 
tliat  had  been  announced. 

Medius  could  make  no  present  use  of  the  girl,  therefore;  yet  he 
put  on  the  appearance  ot  yielding  so  readily  to  her  wish,  merely  to 
spare  his  friend  Karnis  anxiety. 

The  morning  was  clear  and  hot,  and  the  city,  despite  the  early 
hour,  tull  ot  excited  multitudes.  Anguish,  curiosity,  defiance  were 
painted  upon  all  faces,  but  Medius  got  unchallenged,  with  his  young 
companion,  as  far  as  the  temple  of  Isis,  on  Lake  Mojris.  The  gates 
of  the  temple  had  been  driven  in,  and  were  guarded  by  soldiers,  but 
close  to  its  southern  and  western  walls  pressed  hundreds  and  hun- 
dreds ot  the  heathen.     Many  of  them  had  watched  through  the  night 


110  SERAPIS. 

bore,  ill  prayer,  and  expectation  of  the  horrors  impending  and  not 
to  i>e  averlecl,  and  now  they  knelt  around  in  groups,  whimpering, 
weeping,  cursing  or  gazing  hopelessly  on  the  ground,  in  dull  res- 
ignation, worn  out  and  broken-hearted. 

Tliey  presented  a  pitiable  spectacle,  nor  could  Dada  wholly  escape 
participation  in  so  universal  a  sorrow,  although,  for  that  matter,  all 
the  way  along,  she  had  dreaded  Dame  Herse's  scolding,  tar  more 
than  the  destruction  of  the  world. 

Medius,  with  a  loud  gioan,  fell  upon  his  knees,  and  dragged  the 
girl  down  with  him,  for  upon  the  temple's  inclosure-wall  a  priest 
of  tlie  goddess  had  just  shown  himself,  and  after  elevating  the oacred 
sistrum  of  Isis,  and  muttering  unintelligible  prayers  and  incanta- 
tions, began  to  speak. 

He  was  a  shoit,  thick-set  man,  fron\  whose  forehead  the  perspira- 
tion was  running  m  streams,  while  in  the  glow  of  the  ever-increas- 
ing heat  ot  the  sun,  he  sketched  a  frightful  picture  of  the  gigantic 
horrors  soon  to  overtake  the  city  and  its  citizens. 

His  speech  was  pompous  and  bombastic,  declaimed  in  a  loud,  dis- 
sonant voice.  E/ery  now  and  then  he  would  wipe  his  dripping 
cheeks  with  the  end  of  liis  white  linen  priestly  robe,  or  snap  after 
air  when  his  breath  failed  him,  like  a  fish  on  the  sand. 

All  this  did  not  disagreeably  affect  the  multitude,  for  the  hatred 
in  which  his  speech  was  steeped,  and  anguish  in  view  of  the  near 
future,  which  was  mirrored  in  his  every  word,  fully  voiced  their 
own  feelings;  only  Dada  grew  livelier  and  livelier  the  longer  she 
looked  at  him,  and  because  the  day  was  so  bright,  because  on  the 
wall,  close  by  the  priest,  a  cock-pigeon,  with  just  as  droll  flappings 
of  the  wing  as  ever,  tripped  everywhere  after  his  mate,  and  most 
especially  because  young  life  be^t  so  vigorously  in  her  own  bosom, 
as  though  everything  must  turn  out  for  the  best,  tlie  world  struck 
her,  in  spite  of  the  evil  prophecies  of  the  passionate  old  man  up 
there,  as  a  risht  beautiful  and  not  specially  unsafe  place  of  abode. 
On  the  eve  of  destruction  the  Earth  must  assuredly  look  very 
different  from  what  she  did  to-day,  and  it  would  recur  to  her  as 
very  unlikely  that  the  gods  should  have  conlided  their  plans  to  such 
a  buffoon  of  all  men  in  the  world.  For  the  very  reason  that  this 
fat  man  predicted  the  horrible  so  confidentl}^  she  would  not  believe 
it;  and  now  when  some  helmet-plumes  appeared  behind  the  orator, 
and  two  strong  soliiier-hands  clasped  each  ot  his  plump  ankles,  and 
forcibly  lowered  him  from  his  lofty  stand  into  tlie  temple-court  be- 
low, she  could  hardly  restrain  her  laughter. 

Meanwhile,  serious  grounds  for  apprehension  speedily  made  them- 
selves manifest,  tor  a  tiunip<'l  sounded,  and  a  maniple  of  the  twenty - 
second  legion  advanced  determinedly  against  the  grieving  populace, 
and  dispersed  them. 

Medius  was  among  the  first  of  the  fugitives.  Dada  kept  by  his 
side,  and  when  he  quickened  his  pace  through  fear,  she  did  the 
same,  because,  in  spite  of  the  cold  reception  that  she  apprehended, 
she  lonued  to  be  reunited  to  her  family— the  sooner  the  better. 

Never  had  she  felt  so  conscious  of  the  warm  love  she  bore  them. 
Let  Herse  scold  as  much  as  she  chose.  Her  most  angry  words  were 
better  than  Medius'  sweetest  flatteries.  She  delighted  in  thoughts 
ot  each  individual,  yes,  iu  Agnes  aud  little  Papius  too.  and  it  seemed 


SERAPIS.  Ill 

to  her  as  if  she  were  going  to  meet  dear  ones,  from  whom  she  had 
been  parted  tor  years. 

Now  they  came  to  Ihe  dock  which  was  separated  from  the  temple- 
hedge  only  by  a  lane,  and  then  appioaclied  the  ship.  She  pulled  otf 
her  veil  and  waved  it,  but  her  greeting  was  not  responded  to. 
Surely  they  must  have  removed  to  Porphyrius'  mansion,  for  even 
now  some  men  were  withdrawing  the  bridge,  which  connected  the 
vessel  with  the  land.  Swift  of  foot  she  now  look  the  lead  of  Medius, 
and  was  fortunate  enough  to  overtake  tiie  steward,  who  had  been 
giving  directions  to  some  slaves  at  work  on  the  ship,  belore  he  had 
reached  his  master's  garden. 

That  official  was  delighted  to  see  her,  and  immediately  informed 
her  that  his  old  mistress  had  promised  Dame  Herse  to  receive  her 
under  her  own  protection,  in  case  she  should  return.  But  Dada 
had  a  pride  of  her  own,  as  well  as  others.  She  liad  no  fancy  for 
either  Goigo  or  her  grandmother,  and  by  the  time  Midius  came  up 
wth  her,  out  of  breath,  she  had  already  positively  declined  the  old 
lady's  invitation. 

The  ship  was  once  more  empty. 

Kainis,  so  the  steward  informed  her,  had  repaired,  with  his  son, 
to  the  Serapeum,  in  order  to  share  in  its  defense,  and  Herse  had 
followed  them,  because  women  loo— Olympius  had  said  so — might 
make  themselves  useful  in  the  imperiled'  sanctuary,  by  giving  food 
to  the  combatants,  and  lending  the  wounded. 

Disappointed  and  out  of  spirits,  Dada  looked  upon  their  deserted, 
floating  abode. 

She  would  have  liked  best  to  follow  her  family  into  the  be- 
leaguered temple,  but  how  could  she  get  there,  how  make  herself 
useful  there?  Neither  was  she  a  heroine,  for,  from  a  child,  she  had 
ever  sickened  at  the  sight  of  blood.  Nothing  was  left  for  her,  then, 
but  to  follow  Medius  bacik  to  his  house. 

The  singer  allowed  her  time  enough  to  reflect,  for  he  had  joined 
the  steward  under  the  shade  of  a  sycamore-tree,  and  there  they 
proved  to  one  another,  with  all  the  arguments  which  they  had 
picked  lip  in  these  last  days  and  hours,  how  inevitable  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  world  was,  if  the  statue  of  Serapis  were  overthrown 

During  this  livelj' discussion,  the  two  paid  no  heed  to  the  maiden, 
who  was  resting  on  Mercury  overturned  in  the  road.  Dreams, 
grumbling,  sleepmg  in  broad  daylight,  were  things  opposed  to  her 
wide-awake,  healthy  nature,  but  heat  and  excitement  of  mind  had 
exhausted  her  to-day,  so^that  she  was  soon  overcome  by  a  light  half- 
slumber. 

So  often  as  her  weary  head  sunk  upon  her  breast,  it  seemed  to 
her  as  if  the  temple  of  Serapis  were  falling;  when  she  lifted  it  again, 
she  became  conscious  of  the  heat,  that  she  had  lost  connection  with 
her  friends,  and  against  her  inclination  must  go  back  to  Medius. 
Finally  her  lids  shut  more  closely,  and  because  she  sat  in  the  full 
glare  ot  the  sun,  things  before  her  eyes  assumed  a  roseate  hue,  and 
she  Dad  a  wonderful  vision:  Marcus,  the  son  of  Maria,  took  the 
modius  or  wheat  measure  (which  she  had  always  seen  on  the  head 
of  the  statue  of  Serapis)  oft  the  god's  head,  and  handed  it  to  her 
It  was  full  of  violets,  lilies,  and  roses,  and  she  was  charmed  with 
the  flowers,  and  as  he  had  held  out  the  modius  to  her,  she  had 


112  SERAPIS. 

thanked  him.  Hereupon,  he  kindly  and  calmly  extended  his  hands 
to  her;  but  she  pave  him  hers,  and  her  ted  in  us  were  very  pleasant 
under  the  quiet,  coinpjissionale  naze  of  those  large  eyes  which  had 
ottcn  been  present  with  her  upon  the  sliip,  for  minutes  at  a  time. 
She  would  have  so  gladly  spoken  to  liim,  but  could  not,  and  looked 
on  tranquilly,  too,  and  without  solicitude,  when  she  saw  the  statue 
ot  the  god  and  the  hall  it  occupied  enveloped  in  flames.  No  smoke 
mingled  with  this  bright,  kincily  fire,  but  it  forced  her  to  protect 
lier  blinded  eyes,  and  when  Blie  raised  her  hand,  in  order  to  do  this, 
it  awoke  her,  and  upon  opening  her  eyes,  she  saw  Medius  standing 
before  her  in  the  sun,  inviting  her  to  come  and  go  back  home  with 
him. 

She  acceded,  and  silently  listened  to  bis  assurance,  that  the  lives 
of  Karnisand  his  son  were  not  worth  a  copper,  if  they  tell  into  the 
hands  of  the  Roman  troops. 

Downcast  and  sorrowful  to  a  degree  such  as  she  had  never  known 
before,  she  had  passed  by  the  half-finished  vessels  on  the  dock, 
upon  which  no  busy  laborers  were  at  work  to-daj\  when  there 
emerged  from  the  little  street  which  separated  the  workshops  from 
tlie  Isis  temple  an  elderly  man  with  a  boy,  and  the  latter— she  had 
no  time  to  ask  herself  whether  she  saw  aright,  or  were  deceiving 
herself— broke  away  fnmi  the  band  of  his  guide,  as  soon  as  he 
caught  sight  of  her,  and  ran  up  to  her,  calling  her  by  name. 

A  minute  later  and  little  Papinshad  flown  shouting  into  her  arms, 
been  pickerl  up  by  her,  and  flung  his  arms  around  her  neck,  as 
though  he  would  never  more  be  parted  from  her;  but  she  hugged 
and  kissed  him,  feeling  her  eyes  wet  with  tears  of  joy.  In  a  trice 
the  melancholy,  afliicted  maiden  was  again  our  sprightly  Dada 

I'he  man  who  had  conducted  the  l7oy  hither,  was  immediately 
besieged  by  a  thousand  questions,  and  from  his  friendlj^  answers  it 
appeared  that  be  had  found  the  hoy  crying  at  a  street  corner,  thai 
hs  had  taken  him  home  with  him,  and  with  some  trouble,  discov- 
ered that  he  belonged  to  people  who  had  found  lodgings  on  a  ship 
beside  a  dock.  In  spite  of  the  troublous  times,  he  had  brought  the 
boy  back,  because  he  could  imagine  how  great  the  anxiety  of  his  re 
lations  must  De. 

Dada  thanked  the  friendly  artisan  with  all  warmth,  and  when  he 
saw  how  happy  the  maiden  and  child  were,  in  being  together  again, 
he  rejoiced  in  the  sight,  and  cheerfully  withdrew 

Medius  had  been  a  silent  spectator  of  this  scene,  and  looked  upon 
the  pretty  boy  with  an  eye  ot  satisfaction.  If  the  earth  should  sur 
vive,  he  could  make  fine  use  of  him;  and  when  the  girl  cheerfully 
besought  him  to  find  a  little  nook  in  his  Iiovise  for  the  boy,  he  ob 
jected  on  the  score  of  his  scanty  income,  and  the  narrow  accommo- 
dations furnished  by  his  dwelli'ng,  but  hesitatingly  consented,  after 
Dada  had  offered  him  her  gold  bracelels  to  defia}''tlie  cost. 

On  their  further  way,  she  continued  to  gaze  rajiturouslv  upon  the 
boy.  She  did  love  him  so  dearly,  and  lie  presented  himself  to  her 
in  the  light  of  a  bridge,  a  connecting  Unk  between  herself  and  her 
friends. 


SERAPIS.  113 


CHA.PTER    XVII. 

The  wife  and  danghter  ot  Medius  had,  in  conjunction  with  their 
neighbors,  sacrificed  a  black  hxmb  to  Zeus,  as  at  other  times  in  case 
ot  earthqualces  and  terrible  tempests;  but  this  had  been  done  in  all 
secrecy,  for  the  edicts,  which  forbade  the  oflerinE;  of  blood}^  sacri- 
fices to  the  gods,  had  been  immediiitely  put  in  force.  The  more 
individual  members  of  the  singer's  family  mingled  with  other  citi- 
zens, the  deeper-rooted  became  their  conviction  that  the  end  of  all 
things  was  at  hand. 

When  daikness  fell,  the  old  man  buried  liis  money,  for  no  matter 
if  everyihing  did  go  to  rack  and  ruin,  he  thought  that  maybe  it  might 
be  aUowed  him  to  escape  the  general  doom,  although  why  or 
wherefore,  he  did  not  know.  Great  and  small  sought  their  rest 
during  that  warm  night  in  the  open  air,  that  they  micht  not  be 
crushed  beneath  the  bursting  roots  and  falling  walls.  The  follow- 
ing morning  was  a  very  hot  one,  and  one  crouched  beliind  the  other 
in  the  meager  shade  ot  a  palm  and  fig  tree,  the  only  things  of  large 
growth  in  the  singei's  garden. 

In  spite  of  the  ibroiling  heat  ot  the  sun's  rays,  Medius  was  in  per- 
petual mniion.  He  ran  into  the  city,  only  to  return  each  time  with 
speed  to  his  own  family,  and  augment  their  tribulations  by  impart- 
ing to  them  the  horrible  things  that  he  had  learned  outside.  Their 
hunger  was  stilled  with  bread,  cheese,  and  fruits,  for  the  two  female 
slaves  had  lel  used  to  cook  any  longer  on  the  hearth  inside  the  house. 

Sometimes  tliesinger  deported  himself  gently  and  tenderl}-^  towaid 
his  family,  then  again  like  a  madman,  and  his  wife  outdid  him  in 
every  particular.  At  times  she  would  have  him  and  the  children 
freshly  anoint  the  house-altar  and  pray;  soon  afterward  she  was  re- 
proacidng  the  gods  vviih  their  tricRs  and  cruelty.  When  the  tidings 
came  that  the  finperialists  had  engirdled  the  Serapeum,  she  reviled 
and  spat  upon  the  pretty  figures  ot  the  Penates,  and,  a  few  minutes 
afterward,  was  vowing  a  sacrifice  to  the  Olympic  jjods.  The  con- 
fusion was  abominable,  and  as  the  glowing  orb  of  day  mounted 
higher  and  higher,  so  augmented  the  inner  and  outwaid  distress  of 
great  and  small. 

Dada  looked  upon  all  this  with  disgust,  and  shook  her  head  if  one 
of  the  women  declared  thai  she  lelt  the  shock  ot  an  earthquake  or 
the  roll  of  distant  thunder.  She  could  not  herself  explain  w^hy  she, 
who  was  usually  so  timid,  could  not  partake  in  the  universal  alarm, 
at  the  same  time  that  she  felt  compassion  for  the  poor  agonized 
women  and  children. 

Not  one  of  these  concerned  themselves  about  her,  and  so  time 
dragged  on  most  wearily  and  clipped  the  wings  of  hei  joyous  spirit. 
In  addition  (he  burning  rays  of  an  African  sun  poured  down  upon 
her,  tor  the  first  time  to-day.  When  at  last  the  afternoon  had  come, 
she  found  it  unbearable  in  the  glare  of  the  parchetl-up  garden,  and 
looked  out  for  Papias.  He  was  sitting  on  top  of  the  wall,  looking 
at  the  people,  who  were  pouring  into  St.  Mark's  church. 

Dada  followed  his  example,  and  from  the  open  door  of  the  house 


114  SERAPIS. 

of  God  came  the  sounds  of  many  voices  united  in  song;  she  listened 
to  the  music,  trom  which  she  had  been  long  debarred,  wiped  the 
perspiration  from  the  boy's  brow  with  his  peplos,  and  said,  point- 
ing to  the  church: 

"  It  must  be  cool  there,  inside." 

"To  De  sure  it  must,"  answered  the  boy.  "  It  is  never  hot  in 
church." 

"  Do  you  know,  we'll  go  over." 

This  was  a  good  thought;  tor,  thought  she,  it  must  be  better  and 
more  endurable  everywhere  than  here;  and,  moreover,  it  charmed 
iier  to  have  a  peep  at  one  ot  Agnes'  churches,  and  either  to  sing 
again  herself,  or  htai  otiiers  sing. 

"  Come!"  called  she  to  the  boy,  slipping  with  him  into  the  for- 
saken house,  in  order  to  steal  through  the  little  vestibule  into  the 
open  street. 

Medius  noted  her  movements  well,  but  he  did  not  restrain  her,  for 
he  was  sunken  in  perfect  indifierence. 

An  hour  ago,  he  had  settled  up  theaccountsof  his  life,  and  to  the 
pitiful  sum  "of  his  good  deeds  added  his  hospitable  reception  of 
Dada  and  her  little  charge;  but  immediately  afierward  he  had  set 
about  calculating  how  much  he  could  make  out  of  the  girl  and  boy, 
it,  atler  all,  things  went  well.  Now  it  seemed  all  one  to  him, 
whether  evil  overtook  his  own  people  and  Dada  in-floors  or  in  the 
garden. 

Dada  and  the  child  had  soon  reached  St.  Mark's  church,  the  old- 
est place  ot  Christian  worship  in  the  city.  It  consisted  of  an  area, 
the  narthex,  and  the  chuich  proper,  a  very  lonsr  hall,  with  flat  root, 
that  was  wainscoted  with  dark  wood,  and  rested  upon  two  rows  of 
small  pillars.  A  trellised  railing  divided  this  hall  into  two  parts. 
In  the  extreme  rear  of  this  the  floor  was  raised  by  &  podium,  and 
upon  this  stood  a  table,  around  which  a  semi-circle  of  chairs  was 
arranged.  The  one  furthest  back,  and  at  the  same  time  the  middle- 
most, was  distinguished  by  its  height  and  fine  workmanship.  They 
were  all  unoccupied,  but  around  about  them  a  few  deacons  moved 
to  and  fro,  clad  in  surplices  of  bright  brocade. 

In  the  middle  of  the  anteroom  many  penitents  had  collected 
around  a  little  fountain,  and  these,  with  their  lacerated  backs,  and 
tiieir  deep  contrition,  presented  a  yet  more  pitiable  spectacle  than 
the  frightened  crowd  which  Dada  had  seen  in  the  morning  at  the 
Isis  temple. 

yiie  would  have  gladly  turned  around  again  here,  but  Papiasdrew 
her  forward,  and  when  she  had  tound  admittance  to  the  body  of  the 
builaing,  throuirh  the  lofty  middle  door  of  entrance,  she  drew  a 
deep  breath  of  reliet,  and  such  a  pleasant  feehng  came  over  her  as 
she  had  rarely  experienced  before;  for  in  the  only  half-tilled,  tar- 
reaching  hall,  with  its  lofty  pitch  the  subdued  light  prevailing  there 
leally  did  her  eyfs  good' 

The  taint  odor  of  the  incense  that  filled  the  chuich,  and  the  soft 
singing  of  the  assembled  multitudes  were  soothing  to  her  senses,  and 
after  slie  had  taken  her  place  on  one  of  the  seats,  she  felt  well  hid- 
den from  observation. 

What  a  snug,  peaceful  place  ot  refuge  was  this  church;  in  all 


SERAPIS.  115 

Alexaticfria,  thought  she,  there  were  few  places  where  one  could  rest 
in  such  tranquillity  as  here. 

For  a  long  while,  resting  in  body  and  soul,  she  enjoyed  the 
coolness,  tbe  peace,  the  perfume,  and  the  music,  but  soon  her  atten- 
tion was  attracted  to  two  women  in  the  seat  directly  in  front  of  her. 

One  who  held  a  child  in  her  arms  whispered  to  the  other: 

"\ou  here,  among  the  uubaptized,  Hannah?  How  are  your 
family?" 

"  I  can  not  stay  long,"  ran  the  answer;  "  it  is  all  tHe  same  where 
one  sits,  and  when  1  go,  1  do  not  like  to  dsturb  others.  My  heart  is 
BO  heavy,  my  child  is  badly  oft.  The  doctor  says  he  can  not  last 
Ihrouih  the  day,  and  that  was  what  brought  me  to  church.  " 

"Right,  right!  You  just  stay  here.  I'll  run  straight  across  to 
^our  house.     My  husband  belps  me  to  nurse  gladly." 

"  Thanks  for  your  friendly  offer;  but  Catherine  is  attending  to 
the  bov,  and  he  is  hidden  there." 

"  Then,  at  least,  1  can  pray  with  you  for  the  dear  child." 

Dada  had  not  lost  a  single  word  of  this  dialogue.  The  woman 
who  had  left  her  suffering  child,  in  order  to  intercede  for  him  here, 
had  a  peculiarly  sweet  countenance;  and  as  the  maiden  watched  the 
two  women,  and  saw  how,  with  folded  hands,  they  bowed  their 
heads  and  looked  down,  she  thought:  "  Now  they  are  praying  for 
the  sick  boy,"  and  involuntarily  she  bowed  her  own  curly  head, 
and  murmured  softly: 

"  "ie  gods,  or  Thou,  Christ  God,  or  howsoever  Thou  mayest  be 
called,  who  hast  power  over  life  and  death,  make  this  poor  mother's 
]ittle  son  well.  If  I  get  to  my  own  people  again,  1  will  sacrifice  to 
thee  a  cake,  or  a  cock;  a  lamb  is  so  dear!" 

And  now  she  had  a  sense  of  having  been  heard  by  an  invisible 
spirit,  and  it  gave  her  a  peculiar  gratification  to  go  over  again  this 
informal  petition. 

Meanwhile,  a  miserable  little  blind  man  crouched  down  on  a  seat 
near  her,  and  by  his  side  stood  the  old  dog,  who  led  him  about.  He 
held  him  by  a  string,  and  his  faithful  comrade  was  willingly  put 
up  with  in  this  holy  place.  The  old  man  joined  loudly  and  rever- 
entially in  the  psalm,  which  had  been  begun  by  the  rest;  his  voice 
had  lost  its  quality,  but  his  singing  was  faultlessly  correct.  This 
did  Dadd,  good,  and  although  she  only  half  understood  the  words  of 
the  psalm  that  they  were  chanting,  yet  she  quickly  caught  the  sim- 
ple melody,  and  at  first  began  timidly  and  almost  inaudibly  to  fol- 
low little  Papias'  example,  and  sing  with  them;  but  soon  more 
courageously,  and  finally,  with  the  full  power  of  her  voice. 

In  all  this  it  was  to  her  as  though  she  had  come  to  land  after  a 
stormy  and  adverse  sea- voyage,  and  found  a  welcome  among  friend- 
ly people;  and  as  slie  looked  around  upon  the  singers,  to  see  it  the 
news  of  the  approaching  end  of  the  world  had  not  penetrated  here 
too,  she  could  not  come  to  any  satisfactory  conclusion,  tor,  indeed, 
upnn  many  a  countenance  were  depicted  deep  anguish  of  spirit,  con- 
trition, and  vehement  longing  after  help  perhaps,  maybe  something 
quite  different;  but  loud  lamentation  such  as  she  had  heard  at  the 
Isis  temple  was  nowhere  audible,  and  most  of  the  men  and  women 
assembled  here  sung  or  prayed  with  devout  composure. 

Of  those  wild  monks,  who  had  struck  hei-  with  such  fears,  at  tha 


116  SERAPIS. 

Xcnodochimn  ot  Maria,  and  in  the  street,  not  a  single  one  was 
to  be  seen;  in  lliesc  days  ot  unrest  they  had  placed  their  small 
slren'^lh  anil  ixi^t;ii\.  enlhnsiasin  at  the  disposal  of  the  church  militant. 
The  service  nf  God  in  St.  Marie's  ehurcli  had  been  announced  by 
Eusebuis,  the  deacon  ot  that  diocese,  to  take  place  at  this  unusual 
hour,  because  he  wished  to  trauquilize  the  hearts  ot  those  who  had 
been  made  anxious  by  the  recent  disturbances. 

Uada  saw  how  the  old  man  mounted  to  an  elevated  desk,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  railing,  which  separated  the  baptized  irom  the  un- 
baptized,  and  Eusebius'  silvtr -white  head  ot  hair  and  beard,  with 
his  cheerful  countenance,  thoughtful  brow,  and  mild,  benevolent 
eye.  pleased  her  particularly. 

Slie  had  always  thought  ot  Plato  as  young,  him  of  whom  Karnis 
delighted  to  talk,  and  iiom  whose  teachings  even  fhe  retained  some 
idea's;  but  he  must  have  looked  jtist  so  at  an  advanced  age.  Yes;  it 
would  have  bt-autitully  t)ecome  that  old  man  up  there  to  die  at  a 
glad  wedding  feast,  like  the  great  Athenian. 

The  old  priest  would  certainly  hold  a  discourse,  but,  however 
much  he  might  please,  this  drove  her  to  make  a  start  for  leaving, 
because,  although  she  could  listen  motionless  to  music  tor  hours, 
nothing'  was  more  irksome  to  her  than  to  listen  long  to  spoken 
words.'^when  she  herself  must  keep  silence. 

She  got  up  then  to  go,  but  Papias  again  detained  her,  imploring 
her,  with  his  great  cliiki-eyes,  not  to  spoil  his  pleasure  but  stay,  so 
she'yielded.  Nevertheless,  the  opportunity  to  withdraw  unobserved 
had  been  favorable,  lor  the  woman  in  front  of  her  was  just  prepar- 
ing to  leave,  and  shaking  hands  with  her  neighbor,  on  bidding  her 
fareivell.  She  had  already  risen  from  her  seat,  when  a  half-grown 
girl  stepped  up  to  her  from  behind,  and  said: 

"  "  Come,  come,  mother;  the  doctor  says  the  danger  is  past.  He 
lias  opened  his  eyes  and  asked  for  you." 

Then  the  mother  whispered  to  her  neighbor  quickly  and  rapt- 
urously: 

'•  It"  all  proves  tor  the  best!"  and  hurriedly  retired  with  her 
daughter. 

The  one  left  behind  lifted  her  eves  and  hands,  as  though  in  grati- 
tude, and  across  Dada's  lips  ton  flitted  a  smile. 

"  IlMd  the  Christ  God  heard  her  prayer,  too?" 

Meanwhile,  the  i)riest  had  brouglit  his  short  prayer  to  a  close,  and 
bei;un  to  explain  to  his  congregation  that  he  had  summoned  them 
to  church  in  order  to  guard  them  against  foolish  fears,  and  to  lead 
them  to  reflect  how  a  true  Christian  should  deport  himself  in  the 
subsequent  days  of  trial  and  unrest.  Fie  would  like  to  show  his 
brothers  and  sisters  what  is  to  be  dreaded  from  the  idol,  and  its  fall, 
what  they  liave  to  thank  the  heathen  for,  and  what  he  expects  from 
his  fellow -believers,  after  tlie  new  and  splendid  triumph  to  be  anti- 
cipated for  the  church  militant. 

"  Let  us  take  a  glance  backward,  beloved,"  continued  he,  alter 
this  introduction.  "  Ilou  have  all  heard  of  Alexander  the  Great,  to 
whom  this  noble  city  owes  hei  existence  and  her  name.  lie  has 
lieen  an  excellent  tool  of  the  Most  High,  for  he  carried  the  language 
and  science  ot  the  Grei  ks  into  every  land,  so  that,  in  the  fullness  ot 
time,  the  doctrine  which  was  to  proceed  from  the  only  begotten 


SERAPIS.  117 

Son  of  God  might  be  understood  by  all  nations  and  find  entrance 
into  ail  hearts.  So  many  nations  dwelt  upon  the  eaith  at  that  time, 
there  were  so  many  hundreds  of  idols,  and  in  so  many  dill'erent 
tongues  and  moiles  did  men  address  their  prayers  to  that  higher 
power,  which  makes  itself  manifest  wherever  are  mortal  creatures. 

"  Here,  on  tbeNile,  after  Alexander's  death,  reigned  the  Ptolemaic 
Kings,  and  in  Alexandria  the  Egyptian  citizens  addressed  their 
prayers  to  other  idols  than  the  Greek  ones,  and  the  two  could  unite 
m  no  common  sacrifice.  Then  Philadelphus,  the  second  Ptolemy, 
a  wise  man,  gave  them  a  common  god.  Inconsequence  of  a  vision, 
he  had  him  brought  here  from  Sinope  on  the  Pont  us.  Serapis  was 
the  name  of  the  idol  which,  not  Heaven,  but  the  wise  expedient  of 
a  man,  placed  here  on  the  throne  of  deity:  a  costly  temple  was  built 
for  him,  which  ranks  even  now  as  one  of  the  wonders  of  the  world, 
nil  they  erected  an  image  of  him,  than  which  mortal  man  never 
i.i-liioned  a  more  beautiful  one.  You  are  acquainted  with  both  of 
ibeni,  and  you  know,  too,  how,  before  the  proclamation  ot  the  Gos- 
pel, all  Alexandria,  with  the  exception  ot  the  Jews,  crowded  to  the 
Serapeum. 

"  A  slight  suspicion  oi  the  lofty  doctrine  of  Him,  through  whom 
God  redeemed  the  world,  had  already  dawned  upon  the  minds  of 
the  best  among  the  heathen,  the  hearts  of  those  wise  men,  not  yet 
partakers  of  grace,  though,  who  sought  and  wrestled  after  truth, 
atter  inner  enlightenment,  and  a  knowledge  of  the  Most  High.  The 
Lord  had  called  them  to  prepare  the  soul  ot  humanity  for  the  glad 
message,  and  make  it  ready  to  accept  it  when  the  star  should  rise 
and  stand  still  over  Bethlehem. 

"  Many  a  one  of  these  men  linked  beautiful  teachings  with  the 
service  of  Serapis.  before  the  hour  of  salvation  had  come.  They 
commanded  the  woishipers  of  idols  to  consider  the  welfare  of  the 
soul  more  earnestly  than  that  ot  the  body,  for  they  had  recognized 
the  imperishable  duration  of  the  spiritual,  divine  part  of  us  earth- 
born  creatures,  we  who  are  called  into  existence  through  sin  and 
through  love,  and  we  wlio  must  therefore  die  in  our  guilty  love  and 
may  rise  again  tlirough  the  power  of  eternal  love.  Like  the  Egyptian 
wise  men  befoi-e  them  in  ihe  time  of  Pharaoh,  these  Hellenists  sus- 
pected and  proclaimed  that  the  soul  is  made  accountable  beyond  the 
grave  for  all  that  is  done  or  left  undone  in  its  fleshly  tabernacle. 
According  to  that  eternal  law  which  is  written  in  the  heart  of  the 
heathen  likewise,  so  that,  by  nature,  they  might  do  the  works  of 
the  law,  they  well  distinguished  between  virtue  and  vice;  yes,  there 
arose  among  them  tar  seeing  minus,  that  did  not  indeed  know 
God,  but  none  the  less,  in  the  name  of  Serapis,  required  the  erring 
to  repent,  and  declared  it  to  be  salutary  to  cut  loose  from  the  illu- 
sory joys  and  vain  aelights  ol  earth,  and  to  renounce  the  evils  ot 
thought  and  action  that  the  senses  bring  upon  us.  They  summoned 
their  pupils  to  gather  themselves  together  for  the  thoughtful  in- 
vestigation of  the  truth  and  deity,  and,  in  Ihe  spacious  halls  of  the 
Seriipeum,  opened  cells  and  cloisters  for  women  doing  penance, 
where  also  many  pardoned  men,  dead  to  the  world  ot  sense,  and 
devoted  to  the  consideration  of  only  such  things  as  they  deemed 
highest,  made  their  preparations  to  meet  death. 

'*  But,  beloved,  that  grace,  which  we  enjoy— not  for  any  merit 


118  SERAPI8. 

or  worthiness  ot  our  own— had  not  yet  been  poured  out  on  the  lost 
childnn  ol  a  beniglited  age.  And  in  all  these  uoble,  yea,  most  ad- 
niiralik'  upward  strivings  there  mingled,  at  the  same  time,  here, 
coarse  superstition  with  its  bloody  sacrillces  and  foolish  reverence 
for  fragile  images  and  irrational  beasts;  there,  the  deceptions  and 
pernicious  art  ot  sorcery  and  magic.  The  idea,  too,  of  true  salvation 
was  distorted  and  dimmed  liy  the  conceits  of  a  vain  and  fickle  phi- 
losophy, while  to- morrow  saw  already  refuted  what  lo-day  she 
had  thought  firmly  established.  By  and  by,  then,  the  temple  of 
the  Sinopian  idol  had  come  to  be  a  place  of  cheating,  blood-shedding, 
the  vilest  superstition,  lust,  and  abominations.  True,  learniug  was 
slil!  fostered  in  the  halls  ot  the  Serapeum,  but,  grown  hard  ot  heart, 
their  young  men  turned  away  from  the  tiulh,  which  had  come  into 
the  world  through  the  grace  of  God,  and  became  priests  of  error. 
Falsified  and  degraded  through  wretched  folly  the  doctrines  that 
the  wise  had  connected  with  the  idea  of  Serapis,  lost  their  height 
and  aignity,  and  ever  since  the  great  apostle,  after  whom  this 
church  is  named,  brought  the  gospel  to  Alexandria,  the  throne  of 
the  idol  has  been  tottering,  and  the  doctrine  of  sal  ration  has  under- 
mined and  nearly  overthrown  it  in  spite  ot  the  persecution  of  be- 
lievers, in  spite  of  edicts  made  by  Julian  the  Apostate,  in  spite  of 
the  desperate  efforts  of  philosophers,  sophists,  and  heathen,  for 
Jesus  Clirist,  our  Lord  and  Master,  has  transformed  the  fleeting 
slmrtow  of  a  dimly  suspected  truth,  embodied  in  the  Serapis  belief, 
into  a  living  reality.  Instead  of  the  confused  nebula  Serapis  has 
emerged  tlie  purely  radiant,  warm  star  of  Christian  love,  and,  as 
the  rnoou  pales  before  the  victorious  orb  ot  day,  so  will  the  worship 
of  Serapis  die  a  natural  death  in  a  thousand  places  where  the  Gos- 
pel has  found  reception.  Bere,  too,  in  Alexandria,  its  flames  will 
only  be  meagerly  fed  in  future;  and  it  the  power  of  our  pious  Uhris- 
tian  em pei'or  suppresses  it  to-morrow  or  the  day  after,  then,  beloved, 
will  it  fall  smoking  to  the  ground,  and  no  earthly  power  can  re- 
kindle the  flame.  Not  your,  our  grandchildren,  no,  but  our  sons 
will  ask:  '  Who  was  gerapis?'  The  one,  so  soon  to  he  brought 
low,  is  no  more  a  mighty  god,  but  an  idol  robbed  of  prestige  and 
dignity.  There  is  no  question  here  of  a  battle  of  power  against 
power;  there  is  nothing  left  now  but  to  give  the  covp  de  grace  to 
(me  already  vanquished.  The  thoroughly  rotten  tree  will  hurt  no- 
l)ndy  by  its  fall,  but  everything  against  which  it  strikes  in  its  crash 
helps  to  reduce  it  to  powder  and  rubbish.  This  prince  has  long 
outlived  himself,  and  when  his  cracked  scepter  escapes  from  his 
hand  only  a  few  will  lament  him,  for  the  new  King  has  already 
ascended  his  throne,  and  he  is  the  kingdom  and  the  power  and  the 
p;lorv  forever.     Amen!" 

Dada  had  listened  to  the  deacon's  discourse  without  especial 
sympathy,  but  something  in  this  last  sentence  had  struck  her  not- 
withstanding. The  old  gentleniim  up  there  looked  good  and  just, 
and  Father  Karnis  was  assuredly  a  fair-minded  man,  and  moreover 
one  always  accustomed  to  look  on  the  bright  side  of  a  subject. 
How  came  it,  then,  that  the  preacher  up  yonder  drew  so  pitiable  a 
picture  of  the  same  God  whose  greatness  her  foster-father  had  been 
vaunting  only  the  day  before? 

How  could  one  think  so  very  dilTerently  fr-om  the  other?    The 


SERAPIS.  119 

priest  seemed  to  her  more  prudent  than  the  singer;  the  young  Chris- 
tian Marcus  certainly  had  a  good  heart;  a  better,  more  patient  creat- 
ure than  Agnes  never  existed  under  the  sun,  and  so  it  might  well 
be  that  Christianity  was,  in  reality,  something  quite  different  from 
what  her  foster-parents  loved  to  represent  it.  She  was  now  per- 
fectly satisfied  as  to  the  diretui  consequences  involved  in  the  over- 
throw of  the  Serapis  temple,  and  bo  she  listened  more  attentively  as 
tlie  old  priest  continued: 

"  Let  us  rejoice,  my  beloved!  The  days  of  the  great  idol,  Serapis, 
are  numbered!  Would  you  know  to  what  he  may  have  been  likened 
in  our  midst?  Among  the  thousand  ships  and  galleys  crowding  a 
large  harbor  appears  a  splendidly  built  and  richly  pennoned  trireme, 
whereon  the  plague  rages.  Woe  to  those  who  approach  her,  woe 
to  the  imprudent  ones  who  allow  themselves  to  be  enticed  by  the 
rich  ornaments  with  which  she  is  adorned,  to  step  on  board.  How 
easily  they  fall  a  prey  to  the  pestilence  themselves,  and  heedlessly 
convey  it  from  ship  to  ship,  from  the  ships  to  the  laud,  until  the 
contagion  has  infecttd  both  harbor  and  city.  Thanks  also  to  those 
who  ttirust  this  glittering  vessel  from  our  roadstead  either  to  siaK 
or  burn  it  up.  Our  Father  in  Heaven  give  courage  to  their  hearts, 
strength  to  their  hands,  and  bless  their  deed!  When  it  is  said:  '  The 
great  Serapis  lies  level  with  the  ground,  he  is  no  more,  the  world 
and  we  are  treed  from  him,'  then  shall  they,  in  this  slate  and  every- 
where, where  Christians  dwell  and  pray,  solemnize  a  glorious  fes- 
tival. 

"But  then,  then  let  us  be  just,  then  must  we  all  remind  one  an- 
other of  the  great  and  good  gifts,  which  the  trireme  once  brought 
our  fathers,  while  yet  she  plowed  the  main,  with  a  sound  crew  on 
board.  If  we  do  this,  then  shall  we  behold  the  proud  galley  sink, 
with  quiet  compassion,  and  comprehend  the  grief  of  those  wliomshe 
once  bore  through  the  ebb  and  flow  of  the  tide,  and  who  telt  bound 
to  her  by  many  a  cherished  association.  Then  shall  our  joy  be 
twofold,  inasmuch  as  we  ourselves  possess  a  strong  vessel,  with 
stout  planks  and  masts,  and  a  steady  pilot,  and  can  cordially  invite 
those  others  to  come  aboard  with  us,  so  soon  as  they  are  cured  of 
the  plague  with  whose  contagion  they  had  been  infected. 

"  1  tiiink  you  have  understood  this  similitude.  When  Serapis  shall 
have  fallen,  then  will  there  be  much  sorrow  and  tribulation  among 
the  neathen,  but  we— if  we  are  true  Christians— are  not  to  pass  by 
on  the  other  side,  but  endeavor  to  heal  the  afflicted  and  sore  at 
heart.  When  Serapis  falls  ye  are  to  be  physicians,  physicians  for 
the  soul,  like  your  Master;  and  since  it  should  delight  us  to  heal,  the 
first  thing  for  us  to  do  will  be  to  ascertain  in  what  consist  the 
sufferings  of  those  to  whom  we  would  gladly  show  ourselves  help- 
ful, for  the  selection  ot  the  medicine  must  be  determined  by  the 
nature  of  the  sickness. 

"  1  mean,  only  he  can  administer  consolation  who  can  heartily 
enter  into  the  feelings  ot  the  one  in  need  of  comfort,  the  one  who 
feels  another's  burden  as  though  it  were  his  own.  And  this  art, 
dear  hearers,  together  with  faith,  is  the  quality  of  the  Christian  best 
pleasing  to  the  Most  High. 

"  Before  my  spiritual  eyes  1  already  see  the  magnificent  Seiapeum 
brought  to  nought,  the  masterpiece  of  Bryaxis  destroyed,  and  thou- 


120  SERA  PIS. 

sands  upon  thousands  of  lamenlinff  heathen.  As  the  Jews  by  th« 
rivers  of  Biibylon  hung  their  harps  upon  the  willows  and  wept, 
when  tliej  remembered  Ziou,  go  1  see  them  bewailinej  its  past 
glory.  To  be  sure,  what  they  mourn  they  themselves  have  spoiled 
and  "desecrated,  au.l  when  something  higher  took  its  place  they 
hardened  their  hearts,  and  instead  of  leaving  the  dead  to  bury  their 
dead,  and  throwing  themselves  hopefully  into  the  arms  ot  the  new 
bfe,  they  would  cleave  to  the  putrefying  corpse!  They  have  been 
fools,  but  their  (oily  was  sincere,  and"  it  we  win  them  for  our  holy 
faith  then  will  they  be  true  unto  death  to  Jesus,  and  the  crown  ot 
life,  even  as  they  have  been  to  their  uld  gods.  '  There  will  be  more 
joy  in  Heaven  over  one  sinner  that  lepents  than  over  ninety  and 
nine  just  men.'  You  know  that;  and  whoever  ot  you  loves  the  Saviour 
can  prepare  for  himself  high  joy  by  showing  these  sorrowing 
heathen  the  way  to  his  heavenly  kingdom. 

"  But,  you  ask,  is  not  the  suliering  of  the  heathen  vain,  and  what 
is  this  that  they  bewail?  In  order  to  comprehend  this,  come  with 
nie  and  let  us' picture  to  ourselves  what  they  fancy  they  lose,  and 
you  will  find  it,  indeed,  to  be  no  small  thing,  including  much,  tor 
which  we,  and,  with  us,  all  humanity  owe  them  gratitude! 

"  We  call  ourselves  Christians,  and  do  so  with  pride,  but  we  also 
call  ourselves  Greeks,  and  rejoice  in  this  name,  too.  Under  the 
protection  ot  those  t.ld  gods  who^^e  downfall  is  now  imminent,  the 
Greek  nation  has  performed  astonishing  deeds,  has  improved  like  a 
skilUul  gardener  the  glorious  endowments  given  it  from  on  high, 
and  brought  them  to  marvelous  perfection.  In  the  realm  of  thought 
Greece  has  ])een  mistress  ot  nations,  and  to  perishable  materials  lent 
a  form,  exalting  them  to  the  heiiiht  of  the  imperishable  and  in- 
spired. No  other  nation,  before  or  since,  nas  been  created  fairer 
than  Greece.  But,  here,  you  will  ask  why  the  Saviour  did  not  ap- 
pear to  the  fathers  in  those  great  days?  Because  what  they  did,  and 
now  call  beautiful,  only  refers  to  the  perishable  form,  to  theexterior 
merely;  and  because  a  generation,  which  devoted  its  whole  feeling 
and  thought  with  so  much  inspired  and  devotional  warmth  to  the 
beautiful— that  is,  the  seeming— bore  no  affec'ion  toward  the  being, 
the  true  being,  that  has  come  down  to  us  wnlh  the  only  begotten 
Son  of  God.  But  for  all  that  the  beautiful  is  beautiful;  and  should 
a  time  come  in  which  tiie  seeming  is  wedded  with  the  being,  in 
which  the  eternal  truth  will  clothe  it.self  in  perfected  form,  then, 
yes,  not  till  then,  will  be  realized  thi-ough  the  Saviour's  grace  what 
the  fathers  strove  after  in  their  great  days. 

"  And  this  seeming  or  outward  appearance  tliat  was  so  fondly 
nurtured  by  them,  renders  us  srlorious  service,  it  we  see  well  to  it 
thai  we  are  not  thus  blinded  and  drawn  away  from  the  one  thing 
needful.  To  whom  but  the  heathenish  Hellenists  do  the  great 
teachers  of  the  faith  owe,  next  to  God,  the  noble  art  ot  arranging 
their  lofty  thoughts  and  noble  sentiments,  and  casting  them  into 
molds,  which  are  comprehensible  to  Christians,  and  at  the  same 
time  elevate,  instruct  and  eciifyV  In  a  heathen  school  of  rhetoric 
has  each  one  ot  your  teachers,  even  I  the  poorest  ot  them,  jrained 
the  ability  to  communicate  to  you,  my  hearers,  in  flowing  speech, 
that  which  the  Spirit  gives  me  to  say.  And  if  some  day  Christian 
schools  arise  in  which  our  sons  can  acquire  the  like  ability,  tlien 


SERA  PIS.  121 

many  laws  must  remain  in  force  there,  discovered  by  the  heathen. 
If  we  possess  the  means  to  erect  churches  in  honor  of  the  Most 
High,  the  V^irgin,  and  the  holy  saints,  which  are  worthy  of  their 
exalted  greatness,  then  shall  we  have  to  thank  for  these  the  noble 
master-builders  in  heathen  Hellas  For  a  thousand  things  of  daily 
necessity,  and  innumerable  others  that  adorn  existence,  are  we  in- 
debted to  heathenish  arts.  Yes,  beloved,  when  we  review  all  that 
they  liave  done  justice  will  not  withhold  from  them  two  things, 
viz.,  thanks  and  admiiation.  And  to  God  himself  have  the  best 
among  them  been  well  pleasing,  for  he  has  let  them  behold  from 
atar  olf  what  he  has  brought  right  neiir  to  us,  and  poured  into  our 
hearts  through  divine  revelation.  You  are  all  familiar  with  the 
name  of  Plato.  He,  to  whom  salvation  was  a  sealed  book,  with 
the  seer's  eye,  has  foreshadowed  what  stands  revealed  in  clear,  pure 
light  befoie  the  eyes  of  us,  the  redeemed.  He  recoguizi^d  the  fact, 
that  eartiily  beauty  is  related  to  heavenly  truth.  It  is  the  great 
feeling  of  love  that  sustains  and  unites  us  all,  and  he,  he  has  already 
named  that  enthusiastic  drawing  to  the  imperishable  divine  Eros, 
that  is,  godly  love.  At  the  head  of  the  great  staircase  of  ideas,  which 
he  erected,  he  placed  the  good,  and  tor  him  goodness  is  the  highest 
idea  and  the  last  attainable;  goodness,  whose  reality  hedemonstrsited 
with  all  the  resources  of  his  powerful  and  clear  intellect.  This  heathen 
would  have  been  worthy  of  the  grace  that  blesses  us.  Practice  justice 
toward  the  blinded,  justice  according  to  Plato's  definition,  who  calls 
the  viitue  of  reason  wisdom,  the  virtue  of  courage  valor,  the  control 
of  the  sensual  moderation.  Where  these  three  rule  together  in  har- 
mony, there  he  finds  what  we  call  justic?.  Well,  then,  well !  So,  try  all 
things,  and  hold  fast  that  which  is  best;  that  is  to  say,  weigh  wisely 
whatever  is  valuable  in  the  works  or  inventions  of  the  heathen,  that 
it  be  prized  and  kept ;  on  the  contrary,  trample  courageously  under 
foot  idolatry,  which  brings  degradation  into  our  midst,  and  threat- 
ens peril  both  to  body  and  soul,  yea,  all  that  makes  life  precious; 
but,  beloved,  at  the  same  time  torget  not  what  we  owe  to  the 
heathen,  and  exercise  moderaticm,  keep  within  bounds;  for  thea 
only  will  you,  will  we,  be  just.  '  Not  to  hate,  but  to  love  are  we 
here.'  This  sentence  was  spoken  by  no  Christian,  but  by  Sophocles, 
a  great  heathen,  and  it  appeals  to  us!" 
The  old  man  drew  a  deep  breath. 

Dada  had  followed  nim  attentively;  but  it  delighted  her  to  hear 
praised  in  this  place,  too,  tho.".e  whom  she  had  been  brought  up  to 
honor.  Not  until  since  Lusebius  had  begun  to  talk  of  Plato  had 
she  been  disturbed;  for,  before  her  sat  a  haggard  man  with  a  long 
peaked  head,  and  another  smaller  one  of  agreeable  appearance. 
The  first  one  had  conlmually  rocked  himself  to  and  fro,  had  pulled 
at  the  oiher's  sleeve,  and  more  than  once  made  a  gesture,  as 
though  he  would  jump  up  and  interrupt  the  preacher  in  his  ser- 
mon. Evidently  this  behavior  wm  displeasing  to  the  Christians 
around  him,  as  was  manifested  by  nods  and  soft  whispers;  but  he 
heeded  them  not  and  kept  on  hawking  aloud,  and  even  shuffled 
with  his  feet  while  tlie  deiicoii  continued: 

"  And  now,  beloved,  how  are  we  to  deport  ourselves  during  the 
critical  days  of  trouble  jiust  ahead?  Like  Christians — like  Chris- 
tians, on  the  model  of  our  Master,  conformably  to  the  doctrine  that 


122  SERAPIS. 

our  Lord  has  communicated  to  us  through  his  twelve  aposlles.  Let 
them  speak  tor  me.     They  call  to  you: 

"  There  are  two  wajs,  one  ot  lite,  the  other  of  death;  but  there 
is  a  great  difference  between  the  two  ways.  The  way  of  life  now  is 
this:  in  the  first  place,  you  are  to  love  God,  your  Creator;  in  the 
second,  your  neighbor  as  yourself.  '  Whatever  you  would  that 
men  should  do  unto  you,  do  you  also  to  them.'  But  the  doctrine 
contained  in  these  words  is:  '  131es8  those  that  curse  you,  and  pray 
for  your  enemies,  and  bless  those  who  persecute  you,  for  what 
thank  have  ye,  if  ye  love  them  that  loveyouV  Do  not  even  the 
lieathen  the  same?'  But  you  are  to  love  them  that  hate  you,  and 
you  will  have  no  enemy. 

"These  words  of  the  twelve  apostles  1  urge  upon  you  today. 
Take  lieed  of  mocking  and  persecuting  those  who  have  been  your 
enemies.  To  honor  a  conquered  foe  was  also  a  duty  beautifully 
performed  by  the  noble  among  the  heathen;  for  you.  Christians, 
let  it  be  a  law.  It  is  not  so  hard  either  to  forgive  an  enemy  when 
we  see  in  him  a  future  triend;  and  in  loving  him,  too,  the  Christian 
succeeds  when  he  reflects  that  every  brother  man  is  a  neighbor, 
and  is  loved  too  by  our  Saviour,  who  is  dearer  lo  us  than  life. 

"  "I'he  heathen,  the  idolater,  is  the  hereditary  foe  of  the  Christian; 
but  soon  he  will  lie  chained  at  our  feet,  and  then,  then  pray  for 
him,  be'oved;  and  since  the  Most  High,  who  is  without  spot  and 
namelessly  great,  forgives  the  sinner,  surely  we  can  forgive  him, 
■we  who  are  small  and  full  of  sin.  Fishers  of  men  ye  are  to  be; 
prove  yourselves  such!  Draw  your  enemy  to  you  throuirh  friendli- 
ness and  love,  show  him  by  your  example  the  beauty  ot  the  Chris- 
tian lite,  let  him  recognize  the  benefit  of  salvation,  lead  those  from 
whom  we  have  taken  our  idols  into  our  churches,  and  if  we  have 
riu;litly  overcome,  through  faith,  love,  and  prayer,  those  blinded 
ones  over  whom  the  sword  triumphed,  and  they  rejoice  with  us 
over  redemption  through  Christ  Jesus,  then  will  there  be  one  shep- 
herd and  one  flock,  and  joy  and  peace  take  up  their  abode  in  this 
distracted  city— '' 

Here  the  preacher  was  interrupted,  for  in  the  narthex*  a  wild 
huhhul)  arose,  and  to  the  loud  shouts  of  battling  men  was  joined 
the  bellowing  of  an  ox. 

The  congregation  started  from  their  seats  in  alarm,  and  now  the 
door  was  burst  open,  and  Into  the  church  rushed  a  band  of  heathen 
3'oung  men  who  had  been  set  upon  by  double  their  number,  and 
chased  into  the  house  of  God.  There  they  began  anew  to  make  des- 
peiate  resistance.  Crowns  stripped  of  their  leaves,  and  tattered 
garlands  of  flowers  fluttered  around  the  brows  and  shoulders  of  the 
worsted  party. 

Ill  the  neighborhood  ot  St.  Mark's  church  they  had  been  attacked 
bv  monks,  while  they,  in  defiance  of  the  new  edicts,  were  driving  a 
irayly  decorated  heifer  to  the  temple  of  Apollo,  ani.  in  the  confu- 
sion, the  animal  to  be  sacrificed  had  thrown  himself  with  them  into 
the  narthex. 

The  struggle  in  the  church  did  not  last  long.  The  idolaters  were 
soon  overcome;  but  Eusebius  threw  himself  between  them  and  the 

♦  Auteroom  for  penitents  in  the  old  Christian  basilica. 


SERAPIS.  123 

monks,  and  tried  to  rescue  the  vanquished  from  the  hands  of  the 
raging  victors. 

The  women  had  pressed  to  the  door  in  their  terror,  but  they 
ventured  not  to  torce  their  way  into  the  narthex,  for  there  the  des- 
tined victim  ran  turiousiy  around,  pushing  down  whatever  opposed 
him  in  his  mad  career. 

At  last  the  sword  of  a  policeman  struck  him  on  the  neck,  and  he 
fell  bleeding  1o  the  ground. 

Now  all  hurried  past  the  prostrate  heifer,  and  rushed  frantically 
into  the  open  square. 

Daila  found  herself  fn  the  midst  of  the  fugitives.  She  drew  the 
bo.y  along  after  her,  although  he  resisted  with  all  his  might,  and 
beside  himself,  dinned  into  her  ear  that  Agnes  was  in  the  church 
and  ne  wanted  to  go  back  to  her.  But  ihe  girl  would  not  hear  him, 
and  in  deadly  anguish  dragged  him  along  at  her  side. 

In  front  of  Medius'  house  she  paused  for  breath,  and  when  the 
boy  persisted  in  declaring  that  he  had  seen  his  sister  in  the  house  of 
God  she  turned  to  go  back  there  with  him.  In  the  church  no  one 
any  longer  obstructed  their  progress,  but  she  got  no  further  than  to 
the  partition  which  separated  the  seats  of  the  baptized  from  those  of 
the  unbflptized;  for  there  lay  many  corpses  with  frightfully  man- 
gled limbs. 

How  they  ever  got  back  to  Medius'  house  she  did  not  know  her- 
self. 

The  cruel  seriousness  of  life  had  come  before  her  for  the  first 
time,  and  when  the  singer  sought  her  in  her  own  room  that  even- 
ing he  was  amazed  to  see  tlie  alteration  in  her  appearance,  for  a 
shadow  seemed  to  have  fallen  upon  her  bright  countenance,  and 
her  eyes  swam  in  tears.  How  bitterly  she  had  wept  Medius  could 
not  indeed  suspect.  He  ascribed  the  change  which  had  come  over 
her  to  the  peril  impending,  and  was  glad  to  be  able  to  assure  her  in 
good  faith  that  the  danger  was  as  good  as  over.  The  magician, 
Posidonius,  had  been  with  him,  and  completely  assuaged  his  anx- 
iety. This  man,  tor  whom  he  had  often  acited  second  part  in  illu- 
sory apparitions,  exercised  a  great  influence  over  him,  since  he  had 
thrown  him  into  a  trance  by  mysterious  means,  and  forced  him  to 
subject  his  own  will  to  his  in  Mo.  And  this  wizard  had  now  re- 
covered his  old  assurance,  and  with  his  wonted  assumption  of  infal- 
lil)ility,  asseverated  that  the  fall  of  Serapis  would  involve  no  further 
ill  results  than  the  crashing  of  an  old,  broken  column.  Since  this 
Medius  had  smiled  at  his  own  anxiety:  yes  he  had  again  become 
one  of  the  "  strong-minded,"  and  when  the  magician  had  oftered 
him  three  tickets  of  admission  to  the  hippodrome,  he  had  caught  at 
them  with  both  hands. 

The  races  weie  to  take  place  in  spite  of  the  panic  which  had 
seized  upon  the  citizens,  and  upon  his  inviting  Dada  to  share  this 
rare  pleasure  with  himself  and  daughter  she  quickly  dried  her  eyes 
and  thanked  him  joyfully. 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Grave  as  was  the  outlook  in  the  city  of  Alexandria,  the  races 
were  nevertheless  to  be  held  next  day.     So  it  had  been  determined 


124  SEUAPIS. 

a  tew  hours  before  in  the  pnlace  of  Bishop  Thoophilus,  and  ciiers 
were  already  hurrying  Ihrou.iru  the  streets  and  public  squares,  lu 
order  to  invite  the  citizens  lo  that  desiiable  spectacle. 

In  the  otilce  of  "The  Ephemeris  "*  very  early  in  the  morn- 
ing would  be  given  out,  as  had  been  dictated  to  half  a  thousatid 
slaves  ol  ready  penmanship,  what  citizens  were  to  let  their  horses 
run,  what  charioteers  were  to  manage  the  coursers,  and  what  prizes 
were  to  be  distributed  to  the  victors.  They  were  to  be  bestowed 
upon  Christians  or  heathen,  indilTerently. 

The  sultry  air  in  the  great  assembly  hall  was  oppressive,  and  op- 
pressed in  spirit,  too,  were  the  presbyters  there  piesent,  for  they 
purposed,  this  time,  not  to  submit  blindly  to  the  mandates  of  their 
chief,  and  they  knew  that  Theophilus  could  dart  thunder-bolts, 
when  contradicted. 

Besides  the  spiritual  lords  there  had  assembled  also  the  imperial 
envoy  Cynegius,  the  city  prefect  Evagrius,  and  the  commandant 
of  tlie  troops  and  Comes  of  Egypt,  Romanus;  the  imperial  officers, 
Roman  statesmen,  who  knew  Alexandria  and  its  citizens,  and  had 
often  felt  the  spiritual  superiority  of  that  prince  of  the  church,  held 
to  him.  The  legate  Cynegius  wavered,  but  the  presbyters,  who 
could  not  rid  themselves  from  the  same  apprehensions  which  had 
taken  hold  of  the  entire  city,  ventured  to  declare  themselves  as  op- 
posed to  a  too  rash  prt;cedure,  and  to  call  the  holding  of  games  on 
days  of  such  serious  danger  a  presumptuous  undertaking;  jes,  a 
criminal  tempting  of  Providence. 

To  Theophilus'  mocking  query  as  to  what  the  danger  consisted 
in,  if— the  Comes  will  stand  surely  for  that— the  Serapeum  falls  on 
the  morrow,  one  of  the  presbyters  made  answer  in  llie  name  of  his 
brethren.  This  man  had  earlier  worked  wonilers  as  an  exorcist,  and 
was  in  all  orthodoxy  the  head  of  a  Gnostic  sect,  and  passionately 
devoted  to  the  study  of  magic.  Long  since  grown  gray,  with  tlie 
zeal  and  force  of  conviction,  in  an  earnest  discourse  he  represented 
that  Serapis  wns  the  most  to  be  dreaded  of  all  heathenish  demcms, 
and  that  all  the  oracles  ot  former  times,  the  prediction  of  the 
prophets,  as  well  as  all  the  conclusions  of  the  magicians  and  astrolo- 
gers must  deceive,  if  his  downfall  (which  he  and  his  brethren 
would,  ot  course,  regard  as  a  great  boon  from  on  high)  did  not  draw 
after  it  fatal  convulsions  ot  nature. 

Now  Theophilus  gave  the  reins  to  his  wrath,  tore  down  the  little 
crucifix  from  the  wall  where  it  hung  over  ids  bishop's  seat,  and 
broke  it  to  pieces.  At  the  same  time  he  cried  out  with  a  deep  voice, 
quivering  from  excitement: 

"  Whom  do  you  esteem  great,  the  only  begotten  Son  of  God,  or 
yon  silly  idol?" 

He  flung  the  fragments  of  the  venerated  object  which  he  had 
destroyed  upon  the'  table  before  the  presbyters,  who  encircled  it. 
Then,  as  though  shocked  at  his  own  bold  act,  he  cast  liimself  upon 
his  knees,  uplifted  hands  and  eyes  beseechingly  to  heaven,  and 
finally  seized  the  splinters  of  the  crucilix  in  order  to  kiss  it. 

The  effect  ot  his  rash  deed  was  powerful. 

*  The  newspapers  of  the  ancients,  which,  as  in  Rome,  so,  also  in  the  other 
ereatest  capitals  of  the  world,  used  to  appear,  and  eoinmunioate  to  the  citizens 
the  moat  qoteworthy  news. 


SERAPIS.  125 

Horror  and  breiithless  suspense  were  depicted  upon  the  features 
of  tiiose  piesent,  and  not  a  baud,  not  a  lip  stirred,  when  Theophilus 
again  rose  up,  proudly  and  defiantly  measuring  every  individual 
with  his  stern  eyes. 

For  a  long  lime  he  kept  silence,  as  though  he  expected  a  re- 
joinder; yet  1  he  repellent  bearing  of  his  majesiic  form  said  plainly 
that  he  held  hmiselt  ready  to  crush  opponents. 

But  none  of  the  presbyters  did  gainsay  him,  and  it  among  the 
imperial  officers  Evagrius  looked  on  with  a  dubious  shake  of  his 
prudent  head,  on  the  other  hand  tlui  emperor's  legate  nodded  at 
him  approvingly.  But  this  prince  of  the  church  seemed  to  trouble 
himself  neither  about  the  approbation  nor  displeasure  of  others, and 
certain  of  his  cause,  represented  in  brief,  incisive  sentences  how 
■wood  and  stone  had  nothing  to  do  with  deity,  even  though  they 
boie  the  form  of  what  is  most  sacred  and  worthy  of  veneration,  or 
by  the  iiand  of  man  are  superlatively  decorated  with  the  devil's  bait 
of  perishable  beauty.  The  stronger  is  the  demoniacal  power  as- 
cribed by  superstition  to  rude  matter,  whatever  be  the  shape  it 
bears,  so  much  the  more  hatefid  should  it  be  to  the  Christian,  tie 
who  ascribes  powor  to  the  will  of  a  demon,  though  it  be  only  to 
turn  one  breath  of  the  Almighty  according  to  its  pleasure,  let  him 
beware  of  idolatry,  for  its  satanic  claws  have  already  fast  hold  of 
his  garment. 

Upon  tins  accusation,  pale  grew  the  cheek  of  many  a  presbyter, 
and  not  an  objection  was  made,  when  the  bishop  desired  them,  if 
the  strong  temple  ot  Setapis  should  fail  into  tlie  hands  of  the  Roman 
soldiery  on  the  morrow,  to  destroy  it  without  postponement  and 
long  leflection.  and  not  to  desist  from  the  work  of  destruction 
until  that  proclamation  of  their  city's  shame  shall  have  vanished 
from  the  earth. 

"  If  the  world  breaks  in  pieces  on  that  account,"  cried  he,  "  well, 
then,  the  heathen  are  right,  and  we  are  wrong:  and  then  to  perish 
were  delight;  but  so  surel}'  as  I  sit  upon  this  throne,  through  the 
grace  of  God,  just  so  surely  is  Serapis  a  vain  figment  of  blind  folly's 
brain,  and  there  is  no  god  save  the  God  whom  1  serve." 

"  His  is  the  kingdom  for  ever  and  ever,  amen!"  chanted  the  eldest 
of  the  presbyters  after  him,  and  Cynegius  declared  that  he  would  lay 
no  obstruction  in  the  way  of  war  to  the  death  against  the  iflol. 

The  Comes  now  stood  up  to  speak  in  defense  ot  tlie  order  issued 
by  the  bishop,  to  let  the  racing  take  place  the  next  morning. 

He  sketched  a  telling  picture  of  the  light,  fickle-minded  disposi- 
tion of  the  Alexandrians,  passionately  addicted  as  they  were  to  pleas- 
ure. The  military  over  whom  he  had  control  was  a  small  body  in 
comparison  with  the  number  of  heathen  citizens,  and  it  concerned 
him  much  to  keep  a  great  proportion  of  iSerapis  adorers  at  a  distance 
from  the  threatened  sanctuary  at  the  decisive  moment.  Gladiatorial 
spectacles  were  interdicted,  they  had  grown  accustomed  to  tights  be- 
tween animals,  but  a  race,  in  which  heathen  and  Christians  entered 
the  lists  against  one  another,  mu>t,  just  at  this  time  of  the  hard 
contest  l)etween  the  two  religions,  exercise  a  mighty  drawing  power, 
and  lure  thousands  ot  the  most  diingerous  idolaters  to  the 
hippodrome.  All  this  he  had  already  weighed  with  the  bishop  and 
Cynegius;  yes,  this  passionate  destroyer  of  heathen  temples  Jiad  come 


126  SEKAPIS. 

to  Alexandria  with  a  written  permit  from  the  emperor  to  destroy 
the  temple  ot  Serapis;  but,  as  a  cautious  statesman,  he  had  first 
ascertained  whether  the  time  aud  cotijuuclion  of  ciicumslances  were 
favorable  for  beginning  the  worlc  of  annihilation.  What  he  had 
seen  and  heard  liere,  had  only  strengthened  his  conviction,  and  after 
he  had  removed  some  scruples  and  exliorted  lo  mildness,  in  the 
spirit  of  his  commander,  he  gave  orders,  in  I  lie  emperor's  name,  for 
the  temple  of  Serapis  to  be  taken  by  force  ot  arms  and  destroyed; 
he  also  appointed  the  races  for  the  morning  ot  the  next  day. 

The  assembly  bowed  low  in  acquiescence,  and  after  Theopbilus 
had  closed  the  session  with  a  pruyer,  he  withdrew  to  his  tasteless 
study,  humbly,  with  bowed  head;  not  as  though  he  had  won  a  hard 
l)attle,  but  like  one  who  had  sustamed  a  defeat. 

The  sentence  of  the  great  heathen  idol  had  been  sealed,  but  within 
tlie  vast  area  of  the  Serapeum  nobody  thought  ot  despair  aud  speedy 
surrender. 

The  mighty  sub-structure  upon  which  rested  this  greatest  ot  all 
the  temples  in  the  Hellenic  world,  faced  its  assailants  with  smooth, 
lightly  escarped  surface  of  indestructible  firmness.  A  carriage  was 
led  across  a  richly  adorned  lauding,  and  at  the  middle  part  ot  the 
beautiful  bow  that  this  described,  arose  a  lofty  double  staircase,  con- 
ducting to  the  three  portals  in  the  main  front  of  this  mammoth  build- 
ing. 

The  heathen  had  taken  care  to  block  up  these  approaches  with  all 
speed,  aud  images  of  noble  workmanship,  statues  aud  busts  of  kings 
and  heroes,  Mercuries,  columns,  monumental  stones,  sacrificial 
altars,  seats  and  benches  of  skillfully  chiseled  bronze,  had  been  hurled 
upon  the  road  and  steps  that  had  been  torn  up  and  broken  by  a 
thousand  hands. 

The  quadratic  flagstones  and  the  granite  steps  ot  the  staircase  had 
been  heaped  together  for  protecting  walls,  and  these  kept  increasing 
long  after  the  besiegers  had  approached  the  temple;  tor  the  heathen 
tore  up  paving-stones,  little  pillars,  gutters,  aud  long  stone  balcony- 
lailings,  from  the  crown  of  the  lool,  and  cast  them  upon  the 
rampart,  and  wherever  it  was  possible  upon  the  attacking  troops, 
wlio,  for  the  present,  would  not  be  tempted  to  do  serious  battle. 

The  leaders  of  the  imperial  legions  had  miscalculated  the  strength 
of  the  temple's  defenders.  They  had  supposed  only  a  few  hundred 
to  have  been  thrown  into  it;  but'on  the  roof  alone  more  than  a  thou- 
sand showed  themselves,  and  with  every  hour  theSerapeum  seemed 
to  till  more  threateniugly  with  heathen  men  and  women. 

The  Romans  supposed  that  these  increasing  numbers  had  been 
concealed,  since  the  arrival  of  Cynegius,  in  the  secret  halls  and 
chambers  of  the  Serapeum,  and  did  not  suspect  that  they  were  con- 
liuually  gaining  accessions. 

Karnis,  too,  with  llersc  and  his  son,  had  come  from  Porphyrins' 
lumber-yard,  through  the  dry  canal,  into  the  sanctuary,  and  a  long, 
seldom  broken  stream  of  adherents  to  Serapis  and  the  old  worship 
liad  both  preceded  them  and  followed  upou  tlieir  track;  while  old 
Euscbius,  in  St.  Mark's  clmrcli,  had  been  exhorting  his  congrega- 
tion to  exercise  Christian  love  toward  the  besieged  idolaters,  heathen. 


SERAPIS.  137 

resolule  for  defense,  bad  collected  in  the  halls  of  the  Serapeum  to 
the  number  of  four  thousand. 

A  goodly  host,  but  this  edifice  was  of  such  gigantic  proportions, 
the  mass  of  those  present  and  streaming  hither  filled  only  very  scat- 
teringly  tlie  roof,  halls,  and  subterranean  chambers  and  corridors. 
Nowhere  was  ihere  any  crowd,  and  least  of  all  in  the  apartments  of 
the  temple  proper;  yes,  in  the  grand  rotunda,  over  which  a  cupola 
proudly  arched,  where  comers  were  received,  in  the  broad  anteroom 
following,  and  in  the  unparalleled  hy^wstylc,  on  the  rear  wall  of 
which  opened  the  semi-circular,  tower-like  niche  containing  the 
renowned  image  of  Serapis,  only  isolated  groups  of  men  were  to  be 
seen:  and  even  those  appeared  dwarfishly  small,  as  measured  by  the 
eye,  through  the  immensely  long  rows  of  pillars. 

Only  in'the  rotunda,  with  its  four  columns,  exceeding  all  human 
measuremeui,  shone  the  full  light  of  day,  coming  in,  as  it  did, 
through  the  window  in  the  tympan  upon  which  the  cupola  rested. 
In  the  vestibule  reigned  dim  twilight,  in  the  hypostyle  a  half  dark- 
ness crossed  by  wondrous  gleams  of  light,  producing  a  mystical 
efiect. 

The  shadows  of  the  giant  pillars  in  the  vestibule,  and  of  the  double 
rows  of  those  lining  the  colonnades  on  both  sides  of  the  liyiwstyU, 
lay  like  long  strips  of  black  crape  upon  the  many-colored  pavement, 
mosaic  circles  and  eclipses  edged  and  adorned  the  smooth  surface  of 
this  faultlessly  polished  floor,  and  in  it  were  mirrored  the  gorgeous- 
ly painted  astrological  devices  on  the  stone  roofs,  the  processions  of 
tlie  gods  and  mythological  groups,  that  decorated  the  walls,  in  skill- 
fully executed,  brilliantly-colored  ato-?-efew,  as  well  as  the  statues 
and  Mercuries  between  the  pillars. 

A  superabundance  of  tine  forms  and  coloring  here  met  the  eye  in 
overwhelming  confusion,  the  breath  lelt  oppressed  by  the  sweet 
streams  of  incense,  pervading  these  halls,  and  the  magical,  mystical, 
original  signs,  figures  and  shapes  were  so  many,  that  the  unsatisfied 
mind,  thirsting  after  explanation  and  the  signification  of  the  unknow- 
able and  mysterious,  delayed  nearer  approach  to  any  one  thing. 

Like  a  thick  cloud  which  conceals  some  mountain  summit,  flowed 
down  to  the  ground,  in  trout  of  the  niche  where  was  the  image  of 
Serapis,  a  heavy  curtain,  which  giants  seemed  to  have  woven"  at  a 
loom  of  superhuman  size.  It  fell  in  beautiful  folds  from  the  lop  of 
the  hypostyle  to  the  floor,  and,  while  it  hid  the  god  from  profane 
Inoks,  it  fastened  the  gaze  upon  the  world  of  mysteriousljMieautiful 
and  strange  figures,  with  which  it  was  inwoven  and  embroidered. 

The  gold  and  silver  plate  and  the  precious  stones,  which  this 
drapery  concealed,  had  higher  value  than  the  treasury  of  a  mighty 
monarch.  And  all  this  seemed  so  overpoweringly  great  that,  beside 
it,  man  shudderingly  felt  his  own  insignificance,  that  the  spirit 
sought  after  new  standards  of  measurement,  in  order  to  fit  itself  to 
such  unusual  circumstances. 

The  infinite  and  immeasurable  seemed  here  to  border  upon  the 
finite;  and  he  who,  with  head  bent  back,  looked  up  to  the  tops  of 
the  pillars,  and  the  unattainable  height  ot  the  roofs,  felt  the  powers 
of  his  healthy  vision  fail  before  he  liad  succeeded  in  taking  in  or  ap- 
prehending even  a  small  i^ortioa  of  the  teeming  images  and  figures 
thereon  inscribed. 


128  SERAPIS. 

And  yet  here,  where  Greek  beauty  was  combined  wi  th  the  gofgeous- 
ness  and  grandeur  of  the  East,  the  tiniest  thing  could  bear  scrutiny; 
for  there  was  no  architectural  form,  no  work  of  the  sculpt  or, 
painter,  worker  in  brass,  mosaicisi  or  wc-aver,  which  did  not  bear  the 
stamp  ot  genuine  merit  and  hii^h  perfection.  The  brotvnish-red, 
mottled  porphyry,  the  white,  yellow  nud  rerl  marble  profusely  be- 
stowed here,  were  the  finest  and  purest  which  Greek  liands  liad 
ever  fashioned.  Each  one  of  the  tiiousaud  pieces  of  sculpture  to  be 
found  here  was  the  masterpiece  of  a  great  art  ist ;  and  whoever  devoted 
himself  lovingly  to  examination  of  the  mosaics  on  the  dazzlingly 
polished  floors,  or  whoever  scrutiniz.ed  closely  the  ornamental  slabs, 
which  framed  the  aUo-reUevos  and  parlilioned  the  wall  into  sections, 
must  have  been  smitten  with  wonder  and  admiraliou  at  the  magical 
beauty,  the  elegance  and  copiousness  ot  invention,  which  lent  even 
to  these  small  works  grandeur,  charm  and  significance. 

Hundreds  of  courts,  halls,  corridors  and  chambers  svere  annexed 
to  these  immense  apartments  dedicated  to  culture,  or  spread  them- 
selves out  in  divers  stories  underneath. 

There  weie  long  rows  of  chambers,  holding  more  than  a  hundred 
thousand  volumes,  which  constituted  the  famous  library  of  the 
Serapeum.  With  these  were  connecting  reading  and  writin.a;  rooms; 
here  were  dining,  waiting,  and  assembly  roorcs  for  the  superintend- 
ents of  the  temple;  for  teachers  and  scholars,  there  pungent  odors 
issued  from  laboratories,  and  appetizing  ones  from  the  kitchens  and 
bakeries.  Within  the  strong  walks  of  the  basement  lay  the  forsaken 
cells  of  the  penitents,  and  the  dwelliui,^s  of  the  lower  employes  and 
slaves  of  the  temple,  who  were  reckoned  by  the  hundred-  in  the 
subterranean  re2;ions  opened  that  mysterious  world  of  halls,  grottoes, 
passaa;es  and  caverns  appointed  tor  iniiialion  into  the  mysteries  and 
practice  of  the  same;  and  unon  the  root  of  the  sanctuary  were 
erected  observatories,  and  liere  still  rose  up  the  great  watch-tower 
whence  an  Eratosthenes  and  Claudius  Ptolemy  had  studied  the 
stars.  Astronomers,  astrologers,  tellers  of  the  hours  and  magicians 
there  passed  their  nights;  deep  untler  them,  in  the  temple  courts, 
about  which  stables  and  magazines  ranged  themselves,  flowed  the 
blood  of  victims,  and  were  inspected  the  entrails  of  the  heifers  and 
sheep  slaughtered. 

Yes,  the  abode  of  Serapis  was  a  world  on  a  small  scale,  and  the 
centuries  had  superabuniiantly  supplied  it  with  beauty  and  the 
noblest  gifts  of  art  and  science.  Magic  and  sorcery  wove  about  it  a 
mysierious,  mj'stic  charm,  and  philosophy  had 'liukod  deep  and 
manifest  speculations  with  the  nature  of  Serapis.  Assuredlv,  this 
sanctuary  was  the  heart  ot  Hellenic  life  in  Alexandtr's  cily!  'What 
wonder,  if  the  heathen  fancied  that  at  the  fall  of  Serapis  and  his 
abode,  the  whole  earth  must  perish  with  it! 

With  timidly  beating  hearis  had  they  poured  into  the  Serapeum 
expecting  to  go  to  ruin  with  their  god;  and  yet  full  of  enthusiastic 
desire  to  pieveut  his  fall. 

Wliat  a  marvelous  mixture  of  mm  and  women  had  this  day 
found  themselves  together  within  th«^se  hallowed  precincts! 

Grave  scholars,  philosophers,  grammarians,  mathematicians, 
physicists,  surL^'ons,  adhered  t)  Olympius  and  silently  followed 
him.     Rhetoricians  with  smooth  faces,    magicians  aud  sorcerers, 


SERAPIS.  139 

whose  lonsr  beards  flnwerl  over  robes  embroidered  with  sinffiilar 
devices;  Rtiideuts  clad  lilce  their  predecessors  iu  the  palmy  days  ot 
Athens;  men  of  every  age,  who  called  tliemselves  artists,  and  yet 
who  only  knew  how  to  imitate  what  greater  times  had  created— un- 
foriunates,  who,  at  this  epoch  of  the  unnihilation  of  the  beautiful, 
found  nobody  to  cherish  their  abilities,  and  stimulate  tliem  to 
embody  in  actuality  their  higher  ideals. 

Play-actors  from  the  theaters  which  liad  been  put  down;  breadless 
tragedians  whose  theaters  had  been  closed  by  emperor  and  bishop; 
singers  and  tlute-players,  liungiy  priests  ard  temple-servants,  who 
hacTbeen  expelled  from  heathen  sanctuaries;  advocates,  scribes,  sea- 
captains,  handicraltsmen,  and  few  merchants  besides;  for  Christian- 
ity had  ceased  to  be  the  religion  bt  the  poor,  and  property-holders 
attached  themselves  to  the  faith  favored  liy  the  authorilies. 

if  is  female  favorite  had  followed  one  of  the  students,  and  seeing 
this,  forthwith  others  of  his  fellows  had  gone  back  to  the  city  and 
returned  with  their  sweethearts  and  their  friends.  iSo,  then,  mixed 
up  with  the  men,  was  a  great  number  of  wi'eathed  and  bedizened 
■women,  servant-maids  thrust  forth  from  the  temples,  and  priestesses 
of  better  reputation,  who  remained  true  to  the  old  gods  or  were  ad- 
dicted to  magic. 

In  striking  contrast  with  these  women  showed  a  tall  and  aignified 
matron  in  black  mourning  garb.  It  was  Berenice,  the  mother  of 
the  young  heathen  who  had  been  ridden  down  ana  wounded  upon 
the  Prefecture  Place,  and  whose  eyes  had  been  closed  by  Eusebius. 
She  had  come  into  the  Serapeum  to  aid  in  avenging  her  sou's  death, 
and  to  perish  with  the  gods  for  whom  he  hail  imperiled  his  life. 
The  wild  commotion  around  distressed  her,  and  wholly  absorbed  iu 
woe,  and  deeply  veiled,  for  long  hours  she  kept  her  place  at  the  foot 
of  the  bionze  statue  of  Justice,*  silently  looking  on  the  ground. 

Olympius  had  intrusted  tlie  supermtendence  of  the  men  capable 
of  bearing  arms  to  the  hoary-hiaded  legate  Memnon,  an  experienced 
general,  who  had  lost  his  left  arm  in  battle  with  the  Goths,  and  was 
sometimes  troubled  with  reducing  this  heterogeneous  little  army  to 
obedience  to  the  veteran;  sometimes  he  had  to  compose  differences, 
to  untangle  wild  disorder  and  regulate  excesses,  again  to  issue  orders 
which  had  reference  to  the  maintenance  of  his  forces,  and  the  great 
saciifice  in  which  he  wanted  to  unite  all  those  loyal  to  Serapis. 

Karnis  kept  close  by  his  side,  lending  him  a  helping  hand  wher- 
ever such  a  thing  was  possible.  Orpheus  had  been  ordere:!  to  the 
i-oof  along  with  other  young  men,  and  there  had  a  hard  time  in  the 
burning  sunshine,  upon  hot  copper  plates,  and  beside  the  square 
stouL's  and  columns  of  the  glowing  cupola  which  they  expected  next 
morning  to  hurl  upon  the  assailants. 

Dame  flerse  nursed  the  sick  and  wounded;  for  some  few,  who 
had  rashly  exposed  their  persons  at  the  blocking  up  of  the  ap- 
l)roaches,  had  been  reached  by  the  arrows  and  lances  of  troopers, 
inactive  though  they  were;  and  a  far  greater  number  of  heathen 
youth  had  come  to  grief  while  at  work  upon  the  root  through  sun- 
stroke or  ailments  of  that  sort. 


*  PunishiDg  and  rewarding,  accurdmg  to  the  Egyptian  conception  of  her 
fcharacter. 

5 


130  SERAPIS. 

In  the  spacious  halls  of  the  temple  it  was  cooler  than  in  the  glow- 
ing; fetreels  ot  llie  city,  and  time  passed  swiftly  with  tlie  besieged. 

JMany  of  tiiem  had  to  work  with  tiieir  iiands  or  keep  guard,  others 
exclianged  opinions,  disputed,  or  went  ofl  into  dissertations  upon 
tliat  wliicli  sliouid  and  must  be.  Many  cowered  upon  the  ground 
overcome  by  anguish,  or  religious  awe,  praying,  uc uttering  adjura- 
tions, and  weeping.  Mairiciaus  and  astrologers  with  their  followers 
had  withdrawn  into  side-rooms  and  compared  tables,  in  order  to 
calculate,  to  prognosticate,  to  seek  for  new  formulas,  and  to  defend 
Ihem  against  attiicks.  Between  them  and  tlie  library  was  an  un- 
broken stream  of  comers  anil  goers,  and  the  tables  were  covered 
witli  rolls  and  tablets  which  contained  old  prophecies,  horoscopes, 
and  effective  conjuralions.  Messenger  after  messenger,  on  behalf 
of  repose,  went  from  liiem  into  the  great  halls,  where  hundreds  of 
young  men  with  their  girls  were  dancing,  kissing,  and  wildly 
careering  to  the  sound  ot  shrill  jiipes  and  the  twanging  ot  stringed 
instruments,  shaking  *in  their  hands  llie  clashing  tambourine,  that 
they  m.ight  make  merry  use  of  liie  few  hours  yet  allotted  them,  ere 
they  must  take  that  leap  into  noihinguess,  or  be  swallowed  up  by  the 
uncertain  shadow  ot  tieath. 

Thus  the  sun  drew  near  its  setting,  and  now  suddenly  resounded 
through  the  vast  area  of  the  teofiple  the  thundering,  shattering, 
deafening  roar  of  ils  mighty  gong. 

Like  surging  waves  ot  a  sonorous  sea,  rolled  back  the  echoes  of 
that  mighty  brazen  voice  from  the  hard  walls  of  the  sancluai-y.  How 
it  rushed  and  roartd  through  every  corner  ot  that  gigantic  building, 
from  the  highest  chamber  on  the  astronomers'  watch-tower  to  the 
lowest  depths  of  the  darkest  dungeon,  and  called  all  together  who 
had  found  their  way  into  the  house  of  Serapis. 

The  sacred  rooms  filled  up  from  the  rotunda,  an  ever-increasing 
stream  forced  its  way  into  the  vestibule,  and  soon  the  hppostyle,  too, 
was  crowded  with  men  and  women. 

Without  distinction  ot  age  or  sex,  without  respect  to  the  usual 
forms,  and  the  higher  or  lower  degree  of  consecration  which  each 
one  had  received,  the  worshipers  of  Serapis  pressed  toward  the  ven- 
erated niche,  until  their  progress  was  stayed  by  a  chain  which 
neokf/ren*  had  stretched  across  at  a  certain  distance,  from  the  unap- 
proachable semi-circle.  Shoulder  to  shoulder  in  breathless  silence 
the  parishioners  of  the  king  of  gods  awaited  what  was  to  come  in 
the  l)ody  ot  tlie  InipostyJe,  and  its  adjoining  corridors. 

Soon  was  heard  a  low  chant  as  suug  by  male  voices. 

It  lasted  only  a  few  minutes,  when  there  burst  forth  a  thundering 
salute  to  the  god,  accompanied  by  flutes,  cymbals,  lutes  and  the 
beating  of  ketlle-drums. 

Each  one  had  lifted  up  eyes  and  hands,  gazing  upon  the  curtain  in 
feverish  suspense. 

Deep  twilight  veiled  the  images  and  signs  upon  the  immense 
tapestry;  but  now,  now  came  life  into  the  rigid  folds,  now  they 
stirred,  now  beiran  to  run  like  streams,  brooks,  water- veins,  tliat 
flow  after  haviug  been  long  dammed  up;  now  the  curtain  was  low- 
ered, and  now,  now  it  tell  suddenly,  and  ao  quickly  that  the  eye 

♦  Temple-servanta. 


SERAPIS.  131 

could  hardly  follow  its  movement.  And  now  rang  from  a  thousand 
lips,  as  from  a  single  mouth,  a  cry  of  admiration,  astonishment  and 
rapture,  for  Serapis  had  revealed  himself  to  his  own. 

lu  full  dignity  sat  tne  majestic  form  of  the  god  upon  his  golden 
throne,  which  was  studded  with  precious  stones.  Thoughtfully 
and  seriously  looked  down  upon  his  worshipers  that  handsome, 
benignant  countenance.  The  rich  masses  of  curls  that  framed  his 
wise  brow,  and  the  kalatJws*  which  rested  upon  the  crown  of  his 
liead  were  of  virgin  gold.  At  his  feet  lay  the  Cerberus,  stretching 
forth  his  triple  head  whence  flashed  rubies  with  fire-like  gleam. 
The  noble  body  and  garments  of  the  god  were  of  gold  and  ivory — a 
oMidel  of  power  in  repose. 

Perfectly  harmonious,  faultlessly  beautiful  in  entirety  as  in  the 
smallest  of  its  parts,  was  this  image  of  superhuman  power  and 
divine  majesty.  If  this  prince  rose  from  his  seat,  why  of  course 
the  earth  must  tremble  and  the  heavens  quake. 

Before  such  a  king  even  the  strung  bowed  with  joy,  for  no  mortal 
man  ever  rejoiced  in  such  exalted  beauty.  This  ruler  of  the  uni- 
verse triumphed  over  every  adversary,  even  death,  the  monster, 
which  ciouched  in  impotent  fury  at  his  feet. 

AVith  bated  breath,  thrilled  by  pious  awe,  enraptured  and  yet 
dumb  from  reverential  fear,  looked  up  those  thousands  at  the  won- 
drous form  of  their  god,  as  seen  through  the  veil  of  gathering  twi- 
light. And  now — oh  moment  without  parallel !— an  envoy  froln  the 
sinking  sun,  a  briglii  sunbeam  broke  through  the  blue  vault  of  the 
niche  that  was  strewn  with  golden  stars,  as  though  it  would  kiss 
the  lios  of  the  god,  its  father,  and  its  sovereign. 

Then,  like  the  roaring  of  thunder,  and  the  dashing  of  the  surf 
against  a  rocky  cliff,  rang  forth  so  overpowering  a  shout  of  joy  from 
tlie  breast  of  the  assembled  multitude,  that  the  statues  and  brazen 
altars  in  the  vast  hall  shook,  the  curtains  trembled,  the  tools  for 
sacrificing  clattered,  the  hanging  lamps  and  chandeliers  began  to 
oscillate,  and  its  echo  bounded  back  from  the  wall,  like  a  rushing 
torrent  in  a  flood,  and  broken  into  a  hundred  streams,  waved  from 
pillar  to  pillar. 

Behold  the  great  orb  of  day  acknowledged  its  master,  Serapis  was 
still  enthioneil  with  unbroken  onmipotence;  it  was  not  he  who  was 
found  lacking  in  ability  to  protect  himself,  his  world  and  his  own! 
After  sundown  darkness  quickly  tell  upon  the  temple,  when,  lo! 
suddenly  there  was  a  flickering  of  light  in  the  vault  arching  over 
the  god.  The  stars  were  in  commotion,  touched  by  invisible  hands, 
and  from  many  hundreds  of  five-rayed  points  flashed  variegated 
tlames  in  gorgeous  splendor.  In  a  flood  of  bright-hued,  magical 
light,  the  god  once  more  showed  himself  to  his  people,  and  now  tor 
the  first  time  in  his  full,  noble,  individual  beauty. 

Again  the  temple  resounded  with  the  jubilant  shouts  of  enthusi- 
astic heathen,  and  now  appeared  Olympius  in  floating  rotje,  with 
the  fillet  and  insignia  of  the  high-priest  before  the  pedestal  of  his 
god's  image.  lie  poureil  out  a  drink-ofleriug  before  the  heavenly 
one  from  a  golden  chalice,  scattered  costly  incense,  and  in  eloquent 
speech  challenged  the  liege  men  ot  Serapis  to  battle  for  their  god 

*  Kalathos  or  modius,  viz.,  the  measiu-e  of  grain  upon  the  head  of  Serapis. 


133  SERAPIS. 

and  conquer,  or,  if  it  must  be  so,  to  perish  for  him,  and  with  him. 
Then,  wilh  far-reaching  voice,  he  uttered  a  fervent  prayer  that 
came  from  the  depth  of  his  heart  and  found  its  way  to  the  hearts 
of  all  present. 

Now  tlie  curtain  rose  aaain  amid  (he  solemn  chanting  of  a  choral 
hymn,  and  while  thousands  followed  its  ascent  in  silent  devotion, 
temple-servants  moved  to  and  fro,  lighting  the  lamps  on  the  roofs, 
walls,  and  pillars. 

Karnis  had  let  go  his  hold  of  his  dear  ones,  for  he  needed  his 
hand  in  order  to  wipe  away  the  tears  that  had  flowed  over  his  old 
cheeks,  in  this  great  hour  of  consecration;  the  mother  was  held  in 
close  embrace  by  her  son,  and  Porphj-rius,  who  had  fallen  in  with 
kindred  spirits,  nodded  to  the  singers,  withaglance  full  of  meaning. 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

One  hour  after  sundown  the  sacrifice  of  oxen  in  the  great  court 
of  the  Serapeum  was  over.  The  god  (so  announceathe  augurs) had 
accepted  it— the  inspection  of  the  entrails  had  resulted  more  auspi- 
ciously than  on  yesterday. 

The  flesh  of  the  slaughtered  beeves  went  immediately  to  the 
kitchens,  and  it  the  odor  of  roast  meat  was  as  pleasant  to  Serapis  as 
to  his  worshipers,  then  might  they  reckon  upon  a  favorable  issue  to 
their  resistance. 

In  the  upper  rooms  of  the  temple  a  cheerful  feeling  soon  spread 
itself  amomr  the  besieged;  for  Olympius  had  supplied  them  bounti- 
fully wiili  grape-juice  from  the  stores  of  the  sanctuary,  and  as  a 
consequence  of  the  salutation  to  Serapis  and  I  he  sacritice  turning  out 
so  auspiciously,  new  confidence  and  festal  joy  now  became  their 
portion. 

Since  couches  were  lackin£r,  the  question  was  how  to  turn  night 
into  day;  and,  inasmuch  as  life  among  the  most  of  them  was  staked 
upon  the  enjoyment  of  the  moment,  and  the  new  and  stranne  ever 
appeared  charming  to  them,  they  were  soon  roistering  in  madly 
merry  mood. 

Of  cushions  there  were  none,  such  as  they  had  been  accustomed 
to  recline  upon  when  eaiing  and  drinking,  and  so  now  they  picked 
up  the  most  wonderful  utensils,  and  changed  them  into  impromptu 
seats.  Where  beakers  were  lacking  they  let  pitchers  circulate,  or 
sacrificial  chalices  and  similar  ware  pass  from  mouth  to  mouih. 
The  head  of  many  a  young  man  rested  upon  the  lap  of  his  sweet- 
heart, many  a  girl  leaned  against  the  back  of  an  old  man;  and  as 
flowers  were  wantmg,  messengers  were  sent  out  to  fetch  blossoms, 
green  branches,  and  vine  leaves  from  the  city. 

Such  were  easily  procured,  and  those  returning  messengers  brought 
the  news  that  tlie  races  would  take  place  in  the  morning. 

This  intelligence  was  of  creat  importance  to  many;  and  when 
Nikarch.  the  son  of  rich  Ilipiioklei'les,  and  the  tapestry  weaver 
Zeiiodotus,  whose  span  of  four-in-hand  had  already  come  off  victors 
once  betore,  and  with  which  he  hoped  to  win  the  wreath  this  time, 
too,  rapidly  withdrew,  in  order  lo  make  the  necessary  arrangements 
in  the  stables,  Ilippias,  the  fine  charioteer,  ioUowedj  who  had  been 
accustomed  to  drive  in  the  arena  the  steeds  of  great  merchants. 


SEEAPIS.  133 

These  three  drew  after  them  horse-lovers,  friends  of  the  charioteers, 
flower-dealers,  renters  ot  seats,  iu  short,  many  who  promised  them- 
selves at  the  hippodrome  especial  gain  or  enjoyment.  Each  indi- 
vidual Ihought  that  defense  was  not  his  sole  concern;  and  since  the 
god  is  favorably  inclined,  he  is  well  able  to  take  care  of  his  own 
sanctuary  until  after  the  races  were  over.  Then  tbey  would  return, 
to  conquer  or  die  with  ihe  rest. 

Many  thought,  too,  of  wife  and  child,  and  the  good  bed  at  home, 
and  so  were  thinned  the  ranks  ol  the  carousers.  Nevertheless,  far 
the  larger  half  of  those  gathered  here  ren\ained,  to  the  number  of 
more  than  three  thousand  men  and  women. 

These  gladly  took  possession  of  the  half-emptied  wine-jugs  of 
their  vanished  comrades;  merry  music  was  provided,  and  they 
drank,  sang,  and  dmced,  with  llrigiit  garlands  on  their  heads  and 
shoulders,  until  far  into  the  night.  Their  rejoichig  soon  became  a 
mad  revel,  while  loud  shouts  and  roistering  outcries  aeain  disturbed 
the  magicians,  who  had  grown  absorbed  anew  in  calculating,  read- 
ing, and  contending  over  their  tablets  and  parchment-rolls. 

The  mother  of  the  slaughtered  youth  cowered  still  beneath  the 
statue  of  Justice,  and  patiently  endured  having  her  heart  wrung  by 
their  shouts  ot  drunken  merriment.  Each  peal  of  laughter,  each 
outbreak  ot  mad  excess  over  there  cut  her  to  the  quick,  and  yet  it 
would  have  sounded  lovely  in  her  ears,  if  only  one  more  had  been 
added  to  those  thousand  voices. 

When  Olympius,  with  head  on  high,  still  in  the  rich  dress  ot  his 
ofBce,  traversed  the  temple  hails  at  the  head  of  the  other  priests,  he 
too  remarked  her,  whom  lie  had  known  as  a  proud,  happy  mother, 
and  begged  her  to  follow  him  to  the  friends  whom  he  had  invited 
to  his  table;  but  she  shrunk  from  social  intercourse  with  men  whom 
she  knew,  and  kept  her  station  beneath  the  statue  of  the  goddess. 

Wherever  the  high-priest  showed  himself  he  was  greeted  with 
enthusiasm.  Brightly  and  cheerfully  he  called  to  the  revelers, 
"  Make  merry,  friends!"  enlivening  them  with  witty,  kindling 
words,  and  reminding  them  of  Pharaoh  Mykerinus.  An  oracle  had 
foretold  that  he  had  only  six  more  years  to  live;  and  thereupon  to 
prove  this  to  be  a  lying  prophecy  he  had  spent  all  his  nights  in 
reveling,  and  thus  made  a  whole  dozen  out  of  the  six  years  granted 
him. 

"Imitate  him!"  cried  he,  lifting  up  a  goblet,  "yes,  compress 
into  the  few  hours  allotted  to  us  the  enjoyment  of  a  year!  From 
each  glass  that  you  carry  to  your  lips,  pour  out  to  the  gods  as  1  do 
here!" 

Uproarious  applause  followed  this  lively  challenge;  flutes  and 
cymbals  unbidden  attded  their  quota  in  full,  copper  beakers  clanked 
merrily  together,  and  many  a  little  fist  beat  upon  the  tambourine,  so 
that  tlie  calfskin  groaned,  and  the  little  bells  on  the  rim  rang  out 
joyously. 

Olympius  thanked  them,  and  with  kindly  greetings  passed  on  his 
way  through  groups  of  his  own  people. 

Seldom  had  his  heart  beat  as  high.  Perhaps  his  end  was  not  far 
distant,  but  it  should  be  one  worthy  ot  him! 

He  knew  how  the  sunbeams  liad  been  deflected,  that  had  kissed 
the  mouth  ot  tSerapis.     For  centuries  this  surprising  spectacle  an^ 


134  SERAPIS. 

iuddcn  illumication  of  (he  ceiling  over  the  god's  head  had  been 
played  off  at  high  festiv.ils  us  had  beon  the  ciise  lo-day;  but  those 
were  only  lures  for  the  niultiiude,  whose  dull  minds  musl  be  im- 
pressed by  the  wonder-working  power  of  the  god,  which  the  elect 
recognized  every\vhere  iu  the  magical  coml)iiKit1ons  of  all  the  forces 
and  phenomena  in  nature  and  in  human  life.  As  for  himself,  he 
believed  firmly  in  the  might  of  Serapis,  and  the  predictions  and  cal- 
culations from  which  it  had  been  ascertained,  that  his  fall  would 
occasion  the  return  into  chaos  of  the  world  as  it  is. 

Many  winds  blew  over  the  world,  all  driving  the  ship  of  life 
deathward:  whether  she  gets  there  to-day  or  to  morrow,  what  of  it? 
The  approaching  end  of  all  things  did  not  frighten  Olympius.  Oidy 
one  thing  filled  his  vanity  with  regret;  there  would  be  no  genera- 
tions to  follow  after  who  should  eslol  his  heroic  exploits,  and  sacri- 
fice of  life,  for  tne  sake  of  the  gods! 

But  all  was  not  lost  yet;  and  his  sunny  nature  saw  in  the  flush  of 
the  sunset  sky  the  promise  of  the  glorious  dawn  of  a  coming  morn- 
ing. If  the  expected  succor  appeared,  the  good  cause  in  Alexan- 
dria here  would  conquer,  and  the  exaltation  of  all  the  heathen  Greek 
world  be  complete;  then  would  father  and  mother  have  rightly 
called  him  Olympius,  tor  then  would  he  excnange  with  none  of  the 
Olj'mpian  gods,  then  should  the  fame  of  his  name  be  more  endur- 
ing than  marble  or  brass,  contmuinff  to  shine  with  the  luster  of  a 
sun  so  long  as  a  Greek  heart  honors  the  old  gods  and  loves  its  coun- 
try. 

This  night — perhaps  his  last  one— should  be  a  rarely  glorious  festal 
occasion;  and  so  he  had  summoned  his  tiienas  and  intimate  asso- 
ciates, the  leaders  of  intellectual  lite  in  Alexandria,  to  a  symposium 
In  the  sense  ct  the  great  sages  and  philosophers  of  ancient  Athens, 
to  lake  place  in  the  assembly-ioom  of  the  iSerapis  priests. 

How  very  differently  did  it  look  here  from  the  council-room  iu 
the  bishop's  house! 

The  Christians  assembled  around  a  wretched  table,  encompassed 
by  naked  walls,  and  occupjiue:  wooden  chairs.  The  vast  apart- 
ment, to  which  Olympius  had  invited  his  frienils,  was  a  regal  hall 
magnificently  furnished  with  costly  wainscoting,  embossed  metal, 
crimson  hangings,  and  rich  in  treasures  of  art. 

r^uxurious  cushions  covered  with  lions'  and  panthers'  skins  invit- 
ed to  repose;  and  when  the  muchiionored  man  joined  his  guests, 
after  making  a  progress  through  the  temple,  all  the  couches  were 
closely  occupied. 

Helladjus,  the  renowned  grammarian  and  high-priest  of  Zeus,  lay 
upon  his  right  hand.  Porphyrins,  the  benefactor  of  the  Serapeum, 
upon  his  left;  Karnis,  too,  liad  found  a  place  among  the  guests  of 
his  old  friend,  and  how  he  did  enjoy  the  delicious  wine  that  circu- 
lated here,  as  well  as  the  witty  and  lively  conversation,  of  wliich  he 
had  been  so  long  deprived.  Olympius  liad  been  unanimously  elect- 
ed symposiarch,  and  had  challenged  his  friends  to  occupy  them- 
selves, in  the  first  place,  with  the  old  question  as  to  what  is  the  high- 
est good. 

They  all,  said  he,  stood,  as  it  were,  upon  the  threshold,  and  like 
travelers  who  have  forsaken  a  dear  old  liome.  in  order  to  seek  for  a 
pew,  uncertain  one  in  the  di.'^taiKC,  once  mcue  ask  each  other  what 


SEKAPIS.  135 

has  been  best  and  most  thankworthy  of  what  they  have  enjoyed 
under  the  protection  of  their  old  household  gods;  so  it  became  them, 
in  this  liour,  to  picture  what  had  been  the  highest  good  of  their  ex- 
istence upon  earth.  Yes,  they  stood,  perhaps,  on  the  eve  of  a 
glorious  victory;  but,  perliaps,  too,  on  the  bridge  which  unites  the 
shore  of  lite  with  the  boat  of  Charon. 

Such  stuff  was  familiar  to  each  one,  and,  in  a  trice,  an  animated 
discussion  w;is  in  progress.  Assuredly  the  talli  here  was  more 
flowery  and  showy  than  in  ancient  Athens,  but  the  conversation  did 
not.  lead  to  the  fathoming  and  elucidation  of  the  old  question.  The 
disputants  only  brought  forward  what  had  been  earlier  tliought  and 
called  the  highest  good;  and  when  Helladius  called  upon  them,  in 
the  first  place,  to  pronounce  clearly  upon  the  nature  of  human 
beings,  there  ensued  a  brilliant  argument  upon  the  question:  "Is 
man  the  best  or  the  worst  of  living  creatures?" 

At  the  same  time,  there  was  much  to  be  heard  of  the  mystic  con- 
nection between  the  spiritual  and  material  worlds,  and  startling  was 
the  power  of  imagination  with  which  these  wonderful  thinkers  had 
peopled  with  demons  and  spirits  all  the  steps  of  the  staircase,  which 
linked  the  incomprehensible,  self -existent  One  with  that  manifesta- 
tion of  divine  form,  Man. 

They  understood  now,  why  many  an  Alexandrian  feared  to  throw 
a  stone,  because  he  feared  to  strike  one  of  the  good  spirits  with 
which  the  air  was  teeming. 

The  more  obscure  were  the  propositions,  the  more  victoriously 
image  and  metaphor  trod  down  simple  words,  and  yet  the  speakers 
rejoiced  in  the  brilliancy  of  their  rhetoric,  and  the  fullness  of  their 
ideas.  They  supposed  themselves  to  have  grasped  the  supernatural 
by  dint  of  mind  and  rraagination,  and  In  their  idle  speculations,  1o 
have  advanced  far  above  the  ancients. 

Karnis  was  eniaptured;  and  Porphyrins  wished  that  Gorgo  was 
by  his  side,  for,  like  all  fathers,  he  would  have  preferred  his  child's 
experiencing  what  he  deemed  high  intellectual  joy,  to  enjoying  it 
liimselt. 

In  his  house,  meanwhile,  it  looked  sultry  and  miserable.  In  spite 
of  the  dreadtul  heat,  old  Damia  had  not  descended  from  her  ob- 
servatory on  the  roof,  where  were  to  ])e  found  scrolls,  instruments, 
and  whatever  else  was  needed  by  the  astrologer  and  magician. 

A  priest  of  Saturn,  who  had  won  for  himself  a  name  by  his  pro- 
ficiency in  these  arts,  and  for  years  past  had  come  to  her  aid  when 
she  wished  to  apply  to  occult  science  in  any  emergency,  was  to- 
day, too,  found  in  place.  He  handed  her  the  astrological  tables, 
drew  circles  and  ellipses,  inscribed  triangles  and  other  figures  at  her 
dictation,  reminded  her  of  ihe  mystical  significance  of  numbers  and 
characters,  which  sometimes  escaped  her  failing  memory,  calculated 
for  her,  applied  tests  to  her  and  his  own  products,  and  lead  aloud 
to  hei  the  conjurations  which  she  judged  eflncacious  in  a.  given  case. 
Often,  too,  he  showed  her  new  ways,  and  proposed  novel  formulas 
tvhich  might  compass  hei  end. 

According  to  the  prescription,  she  had  fssled  from  early  morning, 
and  as  the  heat  of  the  day  increased,  was  often  overpowered  by 
sleep  in  tlie  midst  of  her  work.  If  she  stalled  up,  then,  and  her 
assistfuit  had  meanwhile  arrived  at  conclusions  which  contradicted 


136  SERA  PIS. 

her  prcconceplions,  she  reprimanded  him  sharply  and  compelled 
him  to  ^o  over  attain  the  finished  reckoniofr. 

Gorgo  fieciuenlly  went  up  to  her,  but  altliough  she  brought  her 
refreshments  witli  her  own  hands  and  ollered  them,  she  could  not 
move  the  old  lady  even  so  much  as  to  moisten  her  lips  with  fruit 
juice;  tor  to  break  her  last  would  have  been  to  call  m  question  the 
result  ot  her  work. 

Wliile  she  seemed  to  sleep,  the  maiden  sprinkled  the  room  with 
strong  essences,  poured  acme  of  thom  upon  her  grandmother's 
gown^  carefully  wiped  the  beads  ot  perspiration  from  her  brow,  and 
fanned  lier  into  coolness. 

Tlie  old  lady  submitted  to  all  this;  and  although  she  had  only 
closed  her  weary  eyes  and  assumed  the  appearance  ot  one  asleep.  Id 
order  to  feast  upon  the  tender  solicitude  of  lier  darling. 

Toward  noon  she  sent  the  magician  away,  in  order  to  gain 
strength  through  a  short  nap,  and  after  she  awoke,  she  collected  all 
her  faculties,  and  with  grave  assiduity  resumed  her  labors. 

When  she  had  reached  tlie  conclusion,  she  knew  that  nothing 
could  avert  the  frightful  calamity  predicted  by  the  old  oracles.  The 
fall  of  Serapis  and  the  end  of  the  world  were  surely  just  ahead. 

The  magician  hid  his  head,  when  he  overlooked  the  piocessesby 
which  she  had  come  to  this  conclusion,  and  groaned  m  undisguised 
horror;  but  she  dismissed  him  with  calmness,  handing  him  the 
purse,  which  she  had  newly  filled  that  morning,  saying  with  a  bit- 
ter smile:     "  For  the  hours  betwen  now  and  the  end." 

Then — the  sun  had  long  since  crossed  its  zenith— she  leaned  back 
exhausted,  and  directed  Gorgo  not  to  allow  any  one  to  disturb  her, 
nor  to  return  herself  until  she  should  call  her. 

No  sooner  was  she  left  alone,  than  she  looked  tor  a  long  wliile  into 
a  shining  mirror,  at  the  same  time  repeating  the  five  vowels  without 
cessation,  and  then  she  gazed  expectantly  upward. 

riiis  singular  proceeding  was  to  lead  to  a  certain  result.  Her  aim 
was  to  die  to  the  whole  world  of  the  senses,  viz.:  to  make  herself 
blind,  deaf,  and  insensible  to  everything  corporeal,  that  was  parting, 
with  its  contaminating  burden,  her  spiritual,  godly  nature  from  its 
heavenly  source. 

Freed  from  its  earthly  shackles,  her  soul  was  to  look  upon  the 
god  whence  she  sprung. 

After  long  fasting  and  struggling,  she  had,  already  several  times, 
nearly  attained  this  aim,  and  had  never  forgotten  the  intoxicating 
delight  ot  those  hours,  in  which  it  had  been  with  her  as  though 
she  were  floating  in  imn:easurable  space  airily  as  a  zephyr  sur- 
rounded by  light  Inilescribably  glorious. 

The  faiiitings,  which  she  had  already  long  felt,  came  to  further 
her  purpose,  for  soon  she  felt  a  slight  tremor,  cold  sweat  oozed  from 
her  pores,  her  limbs  seemed  to  give  way,  she  saw  and  heard  noth- 
ing more;  she  felt  as  though  not  the  luncs  only,  bui  every  part  of 
her  body  inhaled  cooling  breath,  and  before  her  eyes  coursed  con- 
fusedly light  circles,  in  red  and  dark  violet  blue.  Did  they  receive 
tlieir  strange  si)lendor  from  the  eternal  light  that  she  sought?  Did 
not  a  mysterious  power  already  liti  her  upward,  to  meet  her  highest 
i.imV    Had  the  soul  freed  itself  from  the  body's  chains!     Had  she 


SERAPIS.  137 

already  become  one  with  the  Godhead?    Had  the  search  after  God 
produced  Mentity  with  God? 

No!  For  the  arms,  which  she  had  spread  out  like  wiugs,  now 
sunk  down,  aud  all  had  been  in  vain !  A  slight  pain  in  those  old 
feet  had  again  remanded  her  to  the  wretched  world  of  the  senses, 
above  which  she  sought  to  soar. 

Again  and  again  she  snatched  at  her  mirror,  looked  into  it,  and 
then  gazed  skyward,  but  just  so  often  as  the  bodily  sensations  ceased 
to  assert  themselves,  and  the  freed  soul  began  to  flap  her  unfettered 
wings,  there  came  a  sound,  a  quivering  muscle,  a  fly,  that  touched 
her  hand,  a  drop  of  perspiration  seeking  to  make  its  way  from  ihe 
forehead  to  the  cheek,  all  to  aid  the  senses  in  maintaining  their 
rights. 

How  hard  it  was  to  rid  one's  self  of  adhering  clay! 

The  sculptoi  who  chisels  the  superfluous  off  of  a  block  of  marble, 
in  order  to  retain  the  image  of  a  god,  was  her  model,  but  the  super- 
fluous was  more  easily  removed  from  the  stone  than  from  the  soul 
knitted  so  long  closely  with  the  corporeal. 

Aud  yet  she  did  not  cease  to  wrestle  tenaciously  after  the  attain- 
ment that  others  had  made  before  her,  but  it  came  no  nearer  to  her, 
rather,  it  retreated  to  an  ever  remoter  distance;  for  between  her  and 
what  she  strove  after,  projected  itself  a  series  of  pictured  memories 
and  strange  visions,  that  would  not  be  exorcised.  The  chisel 
slipped,  was  turned  aside,  lost  its  sharpness,  before  the  divine  image 
emei-ged  from  its  encasing  stone. 

One  illusion  of  the  senses  after  another  crowded  upon  her. 

First  she  saw  her  Gorgo,  the  idol  of  her  heart.  Pale  and  beauti- 
ful she  lay  upon  a  foaming  wave  that  bore  her  aloft  upon  its  briny 
back,  and  then  hurled  Jier  into  tlie  yawning  abyss,  that  opened  be- 
neath her. 

She  too,  young,  hardly  mature  as  she  was,  was  voted  to  the  com- 
mon destruction;  she,  too,  was  to  be  broken  by  the  same  dreadful 
hand,  that  daretl  to  fell  the  highest  of  the  gods. 

luQumitable  hatred  drove  her  far  away  from  the  goal  she  sought, 
and  now  the  phantasmagoria  changed,  and  she  saw  a  wildly  flutter- 
ing flock  of  coal-black  ravens,  describing  silent  circles  in  the  mist, 
at  an  unattainable  height  aboVe  her;  but  suddenly  they  vanished, 
and  now  from  the  gi'ay  fog  plainly  emerged  the  monument  of  Por- 
phyrius'  deceased  wife,  Gorgo's  mother. 

How  often  had  she  approached  it  with  emotion,  but  now  she  diil 
not  want  to  see  it,  not  now,  aud  it  disappeared  at  her  desire  too; 
but  in  its  stead  appeared  the  image  of  her  son's  lovely  wife,  the 
same  who  rested  within  that  costly  monument,  and  to  do  battle  with 
that  face  broke  her  will-power.  A.nd,  nevertheless,  it  showed  her  the 
deceased,  taking  ihat  last  most  fatal  walk  of  her  life. 

A  solemn  procession  moved  from  the  lofty  door  of  her  house  out 
irpon  the  street,  in  festal  array.  At  its  head  were  flute-players  and 
singing-girls,  then  came  a  white  ox,  its  mighty  neck  twined  about 
with  a  bright  red  wreath  of  pomegranate  flowers,  the  blossoms  of 
the  tree,  which,  with  its  kernelly  fruit,  was  a  symbol  of  fruittulness. 
Its  horns  were  gilded,  and  al  its  side  walked  slaves  with  white 
baskets  full  of  bread,  cake  and  flowers,  in  gay  contusion.  Others 
followed  after,  with  light  blue  cages,  in  which  perched  geese  and 


138  SERAPIS. 

doves.  The  ox,  tlie  flour  cakes,  fhe  flowers  and  birds  were  destined 
for  the  sanctuary  of  llithyia,  to  be  brought  in  oJTering  (o  that 
friemll.y  goikU'SS,  who  stood  by  lying-in  women. 

Behind  the  ox  stepped  (iorgo's  mother,  beautifully  crowned  with 
flowers,  her  gait  that  of  a  -wohian  near  confinement.  Plow  modestly 
and  piously  were  her  eyes  cast  down!  She  evidently  tliought  upon 
the  coming  hour  of  trial,  and  accompanied  the  sacrifice  with  silent 
prayer. 

Damia  herself  followed  Her  with  lady  friends  of  the  family, 
clients,  their  wives  and  her  own  waiting-maids.  All  carried  pome- 
granates in  the  right  hand,  and  in  the  left  gay  garlands  of  flowers, 
which  she  had  freely  and  kindly  woven. 

Thus  they  proceeded  until  th(y  got  to  Clement's  dock;  hut  there 
they  encountered  some  wild  monks  from  the  Nitrian  cloisti  rs,  and 
wtien  these  "belield  the  victim,  they  were  loud  in  their  censures  and 
reviled  the  heathen.  The  slaves  indignantly  repelled  them.  Then 
the  hollow-cheeked  wearers  of  sheep-skin  rushed  with  thongs  upon 
the  innocent  animal  to  be  slaughtered,  that  was  an  abomination  to 
them,  and  the  steer  lifted  up  his  powerful  head,  turned,  bellowing 
to  the  richt  and  left,  stifiened  his  tail,  broke  away  from  thegayl),' 
decked  1)03'S,  whom  hilberlo  he  had  patiently  followed,  slung  one 
of  the  monks  high  into  llie  air  upon  his  brancliiug  horns,  turned 
and  lan  raging  upon  the  women  who  followed  him. 

They  scattered,  like  a  flock  of  doves,  upon  which  a  hawK  has 
pounced.  Some  had  been  forced  into  the  lake,  others  against  the 
inclosure  of  the  dock,  and  she  too,  who  was  living  through  all  this 
tor  the  second  time,  midway  to  union  with  the  divine  nature,  she 
was  dashed  to  the  ground  with  the  pregnant  woman,  to  whom  she 
extended  her  hands. 

Gorgo  owed  her  life  to  this  torturing  hour,  while  her  mother 
reaped  death  for  her  sake.  On  the  following  morning  there  was  a 
funeral  in  Alexandria,  grand,  solemn,  and  pompotis,  as  if  a  victori- 
ous general  were  being  borne  to  the  grave.  As  for  the  monk  gored 
by  the  steer,  the  bishop  had  made  proclamation,  that  for  his  re- 
sistance to  the  abomination  of  bloody  sacriflces  to  idols  he  had 
won  an  everlasting  crown  in  paradise. 

The  ravens,  those  black  ravens  began  again  to  flap  their  wings 
before  Damia's  eyes,  and  a  glorious"  young  Greek  hero  cheerily 
drove  them  awaj'  with  his  Thyrsian  staff. 

His  powerful,  supple  limbs  still  shone  from  their  anointing  for 
the  Timagetian  ring,  the  theater  of  liis  victory  in  all  the  exercises  of 
youth.  He  bore  the  features,  he  had  the  ringleted  hair  of  iier  son 
Apelles;  and  now  lie  was  transformed,  and  his  form  had  the 
emaciated  aspect  of  a  penitent,  ami  liis  knees  bent  beneath  the  bur- 
den of  a  heavy  cross:  Maria,  his  widow,  had  stamped  him  the 
favorite  of  the  gods,  with  tlie  cognomen  of  martyr  for  tiie  cause  of 
the  crucified  Jew,  making  a  false  assumption  tor  him,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  his  own  son  and  all  men. 

Damia  doubled  up  her  trembling  fingers,  and  now  again  appeared 
the  ravens,  circling  above  the  prostrate  penitent  with  a  wild  flap- 
ping of  their  wings. 

Then  came  forward  her  own  husband  to  meet  her  composedly, 
without  paying  any  heed  to  these  birds  of  ill  omen.     Thus  had  he 


SERAPIS.  139 

come  to  her,  many,  many  years  ago,  saying  laughingly:  "  The  best 
bargain  of  my  life!  For  a  cup  of  water  1  am  to  furnish  Thessa- 
louica  and  Couslaniinople  with  corn;  a  hundred  golden  solicli  tor 
every  drop!" 

Fortunate  merchant!  The  earnings  of  that  day  had  been  tenfold, 
and  water,  simple  water  from  the  Nile — "  baptismal  water,"  the 
priest  called  it— Lad  filled  the  coffers  of  his  son  likewise,  and  from 
the  original  hide  of  land  expanded  into  vast  estates;  but  this  water, 
this  simple  water  silently  demanded  a  return  for  its  gifts,  and  ibis 
both  father  and  son  had  declined  to  give.  Through  its  power, 
whatever  they  touched  was  transmuted  into  sold,  but  upon  the 
happiness  and  peace  of  the  house  it  had  fallen  like  mildew. 

One  branch  that  had  grown  out  of  its  old  Macedonian  stock  was 
severed  from  the  other;  between  it  and  the  parent  trunk  in  Canopian 
Street  surged  like  a  deep  sea,  salted  with  corroding  hatred,  that 
gieat  falsehood  of  her  deceased  husband. 

That  falsehood  had  poisoned  a  thousand  hours  for  her  son,  forc- 
ing the  proud  man  to  resiiru  the  dignity  of  the  free  and  noble-think- 
ing. At  heart  with  the  old  gods,  he  had,  every  year  more  than  once, 
to  humble  himself  and  bow  tbe  knee,  in  a  Christian  church  before 
the  crucified  One,  and  publicly  confess  him,  in  company  with  the 
hated  professors  of  a  different  faith.  That  water,  that  horrible  gold- 
dispensing  water,  it  was  attached  more  firmly  to  him  than  the  brand 
upon  the  arm  of  a  marked  slave.  It  could  not  be  wiped  off,  nor 
rubbed  off,  for  it  the  false  Christian  and  enthusiastic  friend  of  the 
Olympian  gods  openly  acknowledged  this,  and  abjured  that  despised 
new  faith,  then  the  g'ifts  of  that  wonder-woriving  water,  yes  all  the 
possessions  of  that  ancient  house  fell  to  church  and  state,  while 
Porphyrius'  children,  the  grandchildren  of  the  rich  Damia,  were 
beggared. 

And  all  this,  all  on  account  of  the  crucified  Jew  I 

Praise  and  thanks  be  to  the  gods!  The  end  of  this  misery  vpaa 
close  at  hand. 

A  shiver  of  delight  thrilled  her  as  she  reflected,  that  with  her  and 
hers  cjl  that  was  called  Christian  would  be  crushed  to  powder,  an- 
nihilated. She  would  have  lauehed  aloud  if  her  throat  had  not  been 
parched  up,  and  her  tongue  so  dry;  but  her  features  expres^sed  tri- 
umphant scorn,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  ravens,  who  circled  closer 
and  closer  about  her,  she  saw  Marcus,  the  son  of  Maria,  driving  the 
singer-gill  Dada  through  Cannpian  Street,  while  her  hated  daugh- 
ter-in-law looked  after  them  and  beat  her  breast  in  woe. 

Seized  with  intoxicating  delight,  she  rocked  to  and  fro  upon  her 
arm- chair;  but  not  for  long,  because  those  black  birds  seemed  to 
fill  the  whole  apartment,  and  deseiibed  an  ever-contracting  circle 
about  her  with  rapid,  endless  strokes.  She  heard  them  not,  but 
could  see  them,  and  the  eddying  current  in  their  wake  whirred 
past  her,  and  she  had  to  follow  it  with  her  head,  until  she  was  seized 
with  vertigo,  and  forced  to  catch  hold  of  something  tor  a  firm  sup- 
port. 

Cowering,  her  hands  clutching  convulsively  the  arms  of  her  chair, 
there  sat  the  old  lady,  like  a  rider  who  is  dragged  around  the 
avenue  in  a  ring  by  a  runaway  horse,  until  her  senses  lorsook  her, 


140  SERAPIS. 

and  galled  by  overexertion  and  fatigue  she  sunk  to  the  floor,  ligid 
and  as  it  -were  lifeless. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

GoKGO  had  enjoyed  no  repose  after  being  dismissed  by  her  grand- 
mother. The  noble  tranquillity  of  her  deportment  had  changed  to 
littulness  that  appeared  unnatural  in  her,  since  from  an  impetuous 
child  she  had  grown  into  a  maidenly  young  woaiau. 

The  attempt  to  rid  herself  of  the  anxiety  which  oppressed  her 
breathing,  and  the  pain  at  her  heart  which  stung  like  a  wound,  by 
singing  and  playing  on  the  lute  had  only  augmented  her  restless- 
ness. The  remedy  which  had  hithcrtfl  always  availed  to  restore  its 
lost  equilibrium  lo  her  soul  had  become  inefficacious,  and  Sappho's 
love-song,  which  she  had  begun  to  sing,  had  intensified,  as  it  were, 
the  emolions  of  her  own  heart,  and  stirred  them  into  renewed 
activity.  She  had  become  conscious  that  every  fiber,  every  nerve 
of  her  being  was  consecrated  to  the  one  man  whom  she  loved.  She 
■would  have  thrown  away  lite  as  a  thing  of  nougLit  lor  one  hour's 
sweet  intercourse  with  the  object  of  this  devotion.  Belief  in  ttie  old 
gods,  the  heathen  world  containing  the  ideals  of  her  young  heart, 
her  opposition  to  Christianity,  her  noble  art,  in  short  all  that  con- 
stituted the  charm  of  her  life,  was  thrown  iato  the  shade  compared 
with  this  one  affection  that  w\'is  absorbing  her  soul.  All,  all  drove 
her  to  give  herself  up  unreservedly  to  her  beloved,  and  nevertheless, 
not  an  instant  did  she  hesitate  as  to  which  side  she  should  take  in 
the  approaching  collision  between  the  powers  governing  the  world. 

These  past  hours  had  changed  to  confidence  her  belief  that  the 
end  of  all  things  was  at  hand.  The  destruction  of  the  ■world  drew 
on;  she  purposed  to  perish  united  with  Constantine,  and  that  ap- 
peared to  her  a  piecious  boon  from  the  gods. 

"NVhile  Damia  had  exhausted  her  strength  in  endeavoring  to  break 
her  soul  loose  from  its  bonds  terrestrial^  Gorgo  went  sometimes  to 
the  distressed  slaves,  in  order  to  raise  their  spirits,  and  save  them, 
through  occupation,  from  blank  despair;  sometimes  she  mounted  to 
tlie  roof  to  find  out  if  indeed  her  grandmother  were  not  needing  her 
yet. 

When  darkness  fell  she  had  remarked  that  several  servant-maids, 
and  wiin  them,  a  few  men,  had  run  off.  They  had  earlier  shown 
partiality  for  the  new  faith,  and  now  made  their  escape  to  Christian 
associates,  or  had  taken  refuge  in  some  church,  in  oider  to  place 
lliemselves  under  the  protection  of  the  crucified  God,  whose  great 
l)ower  could  perhaps  stay  the  coming  ruin. 

Porphyrius  bad  sent  one  messenger  who  should  inform  his  mother 
and  herself  that  he  was  well,  that  the  Serapeum  had  found  a  goodly 
number  of  defenders,  and  that  he  would  spend  the  night  in  the 
sanctuary.  There  was  an  evident  hesitation  on  the  part  of  the 
Romans,  and  if  the  heathen  should  succeed  next  morning  in  repell- 
ing tlieir  first  attaclv,  succor  might  yet  arrive  in  time. 

This  hope  Gorgo  did  not  share;  tor  a  client  ot  her  father's  had 
brought  the  news  that  the  Biamitcs,  who  had  come  to  Naucratis, 
liad  been  there  dispersed  by  a  tew  imperial  maniples.  Destiny  went 
on  her  way,  and  no  power  could  divert  her  from  her  courBC. 


SERAPIS.  141 

Tlie  evening  brou2;ht  no  coolness,  and  when  night  had  tully  come, 
and  still  her  grandmother  did  not  call,  Gorgo  could  not  restrain  het 
growing  anxiety,  anJ  after  knockmg  in  vain  at  the  door,  entered 
the  observatory. 

Her  nurse  had  preceded  her  with  a  lamp:  both  women  paused 
upon  the  threshold,  petrified  with  horror,  tor  before  them  lay  the 
gray-haired  old  lady  un  the  floor.  The  back  of  her  head  leaned 
auaiust  the  seat  of  the  chair,  from  which  she  had  slid  down,  and  her 
pale  countenance,  ghastly  and  bereft  of  animation,  looked  toward 
ilipm,  with  half-closed  eyes  and  wide-open  mouth. 

Wine,  water,  cordials  were  at  hand;  the  couch,  ordinarily  destined 
to  rest  the  star-gazer,  received  the  unconscious  form;  and,  after 
some  minutes,  the  women  succeeded  in  restoring  the  old  lady  to  life. 

With  wandering  glance  she  looked  into  the  face  of  Gorgo,  who 
was  kneeling  at  her  side,  and  murmured  softly  to  herself:  "The 
ravens!     W^here  are  the  ravens?" 

Then  she  let  her  eyes  rove  over  the  tablets  and  rolls  which  had 
been  pushed  oS  of  the  couch  and  table  in  order  to  make  room  tor 
her,  the  lamp  and  medicaments. 

They  lay  around  uiaou  the  pavement,  and  this  glance  called  forth 
in  her  a  healthy  and  rousiuu  indignation,  so  that  she  found  strength, 
although  hoarsely^  and  in  hardly  intelligible,  bi'oken  sentences,  to 
scold  at  such  disregard  of  those  sacred  writings,  and  the  disorder 
into  which  they  had  fallen. 

While  the  nurse  picked  up  the  writings,  Damia  again  fell  into  a 
swoon. 

Gorgo  rubbed  her  forehead,  and  tried  to  introduce  a  little  wine  be- 
tween her  lips;  but  the  old  lady  only  closed  them  tighter,  until  the 
nurse  came  to  her  young  mistress'  assistance.  Then  they  suc- 
ceeded in  giving  her  a  tew  drops  of  the  refreshing  liquors;  and  im- 
mediately Uie  old  lady  opened  her  eyes,  moved  her  tongue  quickly, 
as  if  the  taste  had  gratefully  to\iched  her  palate,  then  seized  the 
goblet  herself,  drew  it  to  her  mouth,  and  although  the  glass  swayed 
so  violently  to  and  fro  that  half  its  contents  were  spilled,  she  swal 
lowed  and  swallowed,  until  it  was  completely  emptied.  Then  she 
cried  out  with  the  avidity  of  the  starving:  "More,  more;  1  must 
drink!" 

Gorgo  handed  her  a  second  glassful  and  immediately  afterward  a 
third,  and  Damia  emptied  this  too  with  equal  eagerness. 

Tlien  she  drew  a  long  breath  of  satisfaction,  directed  a  look  of 
revived  intelligence  upon  her  grandchild,  and  said: 

"  Thanks,  child!  Now  it  goes  again  lor  a  bit.  The  world  of  the 
senses  and  all  appeitaining  thereto  are  intrusive,  and  fasten  them- 
selves to  UH  like  burrs.  We  would  like  to  be  rid  of  them,  but  they 
will  cleave  to  us.  Whoever  can  be  satisfied  with  wretched  human 
existence,  let  him  enjoy  them.  They  laugh  over  the  poetess- 
Praxilla,  you  know,  because  she  lets  the  dying  Adonis  lament.  How 
was  it?  At  the  moment  of  death  she  lets  liim  regret  the  loss  ot 
apples  and  pears.  But  is  not  that  fine?  Right,  right,  a  hundred 
times  right,  was  Piaxilla.  There  they  are  fasting,  torturing  them- 
selves—1  know  something  about  it— in  order  to  attain  the  godlike. 
They  taint,  and  consume  themselves  in  so  doing,  while  they  might 
have  been  so  comfortable  if  Ihey  had  allowed  themselves  the  en- 


142  SERAPIS. 

joyment  of  apples  and  pears.  Greatness  never  j'et  made  any  man 
happy.  Let  him  who  would  teel  pkasjuitly  never  cease  to  be  small. 
Such  are  children,  and  thtretore  ihcy  are"  so  happy.  Apples  and 
pears!  For  me  they  too  will  soon  be  gone.  It  the  great  originator 
of  the  universe  spares  himself,  then  will  still  remain  the  idea, 
apples  and  pears,  and  perchance  he  may  be  pleased,  after  the  great 
catastrophe,  to  let  a  new  world  succeed  ours.  It  then  he  again 
embodies  the  ideas:  man— and  apples  and  pears,  it  would  be  to 
plagiarize  from  himself.  If  he  is  beneficent,  then  he  will  give  up 
incorporating  for  the  second  time  that  irite  idea  '  man,'  but,  if  not, 
then  he  will  leave  the  poor  wight  apples  and  pears.  I  mean  that 
little  enjoyment;  for  in  all  gieat  pleasures,  as  they  are  called,  lurk 
pain  and  misery.  Another  glass!  1  relish  it.  After  to-morrow,  no 
more  of  this  either.  1  might  grieve  over  this  good  gitt  of  Dionysus; 
there  is  something  superior  in  it  to  apples  and  pears.  Then  comes 
what  Cupid  gives  to  mortals.  That  is  going  to  its  end,  too.  But 
thai  is  something  no  longer  analogous  to  apples  and  pears.  That  is 
greater,  greater  enjoyment;  and  "therefore  is,  ai  the  same  time,  so 
full  of  cruel  pain.  Rapture  and  agony,  who  knows  their  limits? 
Laughter  and  tears:  they  belong  to  both.  Are  you  weeping?  Yes, 
yes,  yes.     Poor  child!  come  here,  1  want  to  kiss  you." 

Herewith,  Damia  drew  the  head  of  the  kneeling  maiden  tenderly 
to  her  breast,  and  again  and  again  pressed  her  lips  upon  her  fore- 
head. 

Finally  she  let  her  go,  surveyed  the  room  with  uneasy  glances, 
and  said:  "  How  you  have  disarranged  those;  tablets  and  scrolls.  It 
1  could  only  explain  to  you  how  they  all  tally  and  agree!  We  know 
now,  too,  how  il  comes.  Day  after  to-morro\v  there  will  be  no  longer 
a  heaven  and  earth;  but — listen,  child!— but  if  Serapis  falls,  and  all 
things  do  not  cave  in  like  a  tumble-down  hut,  then  "there  is  nothing 
in  magic;  then  has  the  course  of  the  stars  nothing  to  do  with  the 
destiny  of  the  earth  and  its  inhabitants;  then  are  Ihe  planets  nothing 
but  lamps,  then  is  the  sun  only  a  shining  oven,  then  are  the  old  gods 
will-o'-the-wisps,  emanations  from  the  marsh  of  human  cogitation. 
Such  is  the  great  Serapis~yet  wherefore  be  wrathful  aaainst  him? 
Here  there  is  no  it  or  but.  'This  diptychum  here!  1  shall  Bhow  you 
our  conclusion.  There!— here!  It  flickers  so  before  my  eyes.  1 
can  arrange  it  no  more — and,  let  it  go  so:  what  was  decided  up  on 
hisrh,  who  could  alter  it  down  here?  Let  me  sleep  now.  jLarly  to- 
morrow morning  I'll  explain  it  all  to  you.  Poor  child!  How  we 
have  tormented  you  with  learning!  How  diligent  you  always  were! 
And  now,  to  what  end?  1  ask,  to  what  end? "The  great  abyss  swal- 
lows that  up  with  the  rest." 

"  Let  it  be  so,"  interposed  Gorgo.  "  Provided  that  nothing  dear 
to  me  on  earth  precedes  me  to  destruction." 

"  And  the  same  blow  strikes  the  enemy,  too!"  cried  Damia,  her 
eye  flashing  with  e.xultation.  "  Only  whither  are  we  going?  whither? 
The  soul  is  of  divine  substance,  and  therefore  never  to  be  destroyed. 
Shu  returns— am  1  right  or  wrong?— she  returns  to  her  original 
source,  for  like  attracts  like;  and  so  the  irodlike  resolves  itself  into 
the  essence  of  deity." 

"  1  believe  it,  1  know^  it!"  responrietl  Gorgo.  decidedly. 

"  You  know  il,  do  you?"  asked  llic  old  lady.     "  Not  so  L     For 


SERAPIS.  143 

our  best  knowledge  is  but  a  presentiment,  if  not  tounded  upon  cal- 
culation. There  is  nothing  so  unbounded  but  that  we  may  attain 
to  it  by  reckoning;  but  that,  that  slauds  tirmer  than  rocks  by  the 
sea,  and  therefore  1  believe  in  the  conclusion  that  we  reached  upon 
these  tablets  with  proof  and  counter-proof.  But  the  future  faie  ot 
tile  soul,  who  can  reckon  it?  Yes.  if  the  old  order  of  things  remain 
standing,  and  what  is  below  keeps  below,  and  what  is  above  main- 
tains its  position  on  high,  then,  then,  indeed  your  learning  will  not 
have  been  in  vain;  for  then  would  your  soul,  fixed  upon  the  intel- 
lectual, the  pure,  the  exalted,  be  drawn  to  Goii,  as  a  kindred  spirit, 
to  be  united  and  swalloweil  up  in  him,  as  the  drop  that  has  fallen 
out  of  the  moist  cloud  again  ascends  on  high  and  dissolves  into 
moisture  once  more.  Tlien  would — there  misht  be  such  a  thing  as 
the  transmigration  of  souls— then  would  your  songful  heart  awake  to 
find  itself  a  young  nightingale — " 

Here  the  old  liidy  beciime  silent;  absently  as  it  were,  she  looked 
up,  and  after  a  pause  of  long  continuance  went  on,  with  an  altered 
expression  of  countenance:  "Then  would  Maria,  my  son  Apelles' 
widow,  glide  into  a  serpent's  egg,  and,  as  a  creeping  adder —  Eternal 
God!— those  ravens!  What  do  those  ravens  want?  There  they  aie, 
back  again!  Air,  air!  A.  glass.  1  can  not — 1  am  chokmg!  Away, 
away  with  ihat  drink t  To  morrow,  to-day— everything  sinks,  sinks 
— do  you  not  feel  it?  Black — black — and  now  led,  and  now  black 
— everythins:  is  sinking:!  Hold  me!  It  gives  way  beneath  my  body. 
Where  is  Porphyrius?  Where  is  my  son?  My  feet!  Rub  my  feet! 
Cold,  cold!  Water!  It  comes  higher!  Now  it  is  at  my  knees!  1  am 
falling — help! — 1  am  falling!" 

In  fearful  anguish  the  dying  woman  fought  the  air  with  her  arms, 
as  in  drowning,  her  cry  for  help  grew  lower  and  lower,  her  h^ad 
sunk  up(m  her  laboring  chest,  and  soon  slie  breathed  out  her  much- 
tortured  and  restless  spiiit  upon  her  grandchild's  bosom. 

Gorgo  had  never  seen  any  mortal  die,  nor  looked  upon  the  face  of 
the  dead.  She  could  not  take  in  the  thought  that  this  heart,  which 
had  throbbed  so  warmly  for  others  and  beaten  with  such  tender  love 
toward  herself,  was  forever  stilled ;  that  this  spirit,  which,  even  in 
sleep,  had  been  in  perpetual  motion,  was  quiet  at  last. 

The  nurse  had  quickly  come  in  between  her  and  the  deceased, 
liaii  closed  her  eyes  and  mouth,  and  done  everything  to  save  her 
darling  from  the  horrifying  spectacle  presented  by  her  grandmother 
:dler  death.  But  Gorgo  could  not  be  drawn  from  her  side,  and 
wiiile  she  called  tor  everything  that  might  resuscitate  the  lifeless 
li'uly,  the  annihilating  power  of  death  had  come  too  close,  and  made 
iuclf  shockingly  manifest.  She  felt  the  beloved  body  stiffening  and 
growing  cold  beneath  her  hands,  but  her  spirit  still  returned  to  the 
thought  that  all,  all  was  over  now  between  herself  and  her  mother's 
lailhful  representative. 

Every  restorative  of  which  she  had  ever  heard  she  would  see  ap- 
plied, and  she  forced  the  nurse,  in  spite  ot  her  confident  assertions, 
that  no  human  aid  could  avail  here,  to  send  for  a  physician  and  to 
have  the  priest  of  Saturn  brought;  for  powerful  conjurations — that 
she  had  learned  from  tlie  deceased  herself — had  compelled  many  a 
departed  soul  to  return  to  the  body  which  it  had  deserted. 

When  she  was  alone,  and  looked  into  the  rigid  face  of  the  corpse, 


144  SERAPIS. 

a  deep  awt  came  over  her,  and  yet  she  mastered  it  sufficiently  to 
draw  gratefully  and  mournfully  to  her  lips  the  thin  hand,  whose 
caresses  she  had  so  otten  accepted  quite  as  a  matter  of  course. 

How  cold  and  luird  it  was!  Shuddering  she  let  it  drop,  and  the 
large  rings  upon  the  fingers  struck  rattling  against  the  wood  ot  the 
couch. 

That  extinguished  hope,  and  now  she  knew  that  her  motherly 
tiiend  was  gone,  dead,  and  forever  silent, 

A  tharp,  cutting  pain  overcame  her,  and  at  the  same  time  a  sense 
of  utter  desolation— that  humiliating  consciousness  ot  impotence 
against  a  brulal  force  that  tramples  down  human  resistance  as  the 
warrior  does  grass  and  flowers  upon  a  meadow. 

Shaken  by  violent  sobs,  she  threw  herself  on  the  floor  beside  the 
corpse,  and  wepi  like  a  passionate  child,  from  whom  some  strong 
hand  has  tnken  what  he  loved.  She  wept  from  rage  at  her  own 
weakness  freely,  when  she  pictured  to  herself  her  own  loneliness, 
and  the  great  grief  impending  over  her  father. 

That  kindly  remembrance  ot  a  past,  common  bliss,  which  mingles 
an  element  ot  sweetness  even  in  the  bitterest  cup,  stood  aloof  from 
her  heart  in  this  cruel  hour.  Only  one  thought  seemed  to  her  con- 
soling, viz.,  that  the  gult  which  had  swallowed  up  this  beloved  one 
would  soon,  soon  open  to  receive  herself  and  all  living. 

There  upon  the  table  lay  the  guarantee  for  the  approaching  end 
of  things,  and  longing  for  this  culmination  gradually  obtained  the 
mastery,  in  her  spirit,  over  every  other  feeling. 

Under  this  influence  she  rose  up,  and  ceased  to  weep. 

As  soon  as  her  nurse  should  return  she  desired  to  leave  the  house, 
lor  here  she  could  abide  no  longer;  duty  anil  the  impulses  of  her 
lieart  drew  her  away,  and  pointed  out  to  her  the  place  where  she 
should  lind  the  last  thing  that  she  desired  of  life. 

From  nofiiend,  but  through  herself  should  her  lather  learn  what 
had  befallen  them  both,  and  she  linew  that  he  tarried  in  the  Sera- 
peum,  the  same  place  where  to-morrow  she  hoped  lo  find  Constan- 
tine  It  was  the  duty  of  her  lover  lo  open  theie  the  door  for  destruc- 
tion, and  she  wanted  to  go  through  it  with  him  and  at  his  side. 

Waiting  seemed  long  lo  her,  but  at  last,  at  last  a  noise  was  heard 
on  the  steps. 

That  was  her  nurse's  step,  but  she  did  not  come  alone. 

Did  she  bring  the  physician  and  conjurer? 

Now  the  door  opened. 

The  steward  crossed  the  threshold  with  a  branching  candlestick 
in  his  hand,  then  aiipeared  she  tor  whom  she  waited,  and  then— her 
heart  stood  still— then  Coustanline,  and  with  him  his  mother. 

Pale  and  speechless  G  'rgo  greeted  her  unexpected  guests. 

The  nurse  had  not  found  the  physician,  whose  help,  at  any  rate, 
would  have  ccome  loo  late;  but  inasnuich  as  the  stevvKrdcss,  with 
other  Christian  slaves,  had  stolen  oil  and  the  faithful  creature  had 
said  lo  herself  that  her  dear  child  needed  the  comfort  of  some  sym- 
pathizing female  friend  at  luind,  she  had  gone  to  neighbor  Clement's, 
and  asked  his  wife  to  follow  her  lo  the  deceased,  and  her  discon- 
solate young  mistress.  Constantine  had  come  home  a  short  time 
previously,  and  had  silently  attended  the  two  women. 

There  now  stood  mother  and  son,  and  while  the  latter  looked 


SERAPIS.  145 

without  resentment  into  the  pale  face  of  the  old  lady  to  whom  he 
was  still  a  debtor  tor  many  a  kindly  act,  and  then  lastened  his  eye 
upon  Gorgo,  who  stood  there  with  looks  cast  down,  struggling  for 
composure,  Maviamue  tried  to  administer  to  her  friendly  consola- 
tion. 

She  praised  eagerly  whatever  did  not  seem  to  her  utterly  sinful 
and  godless  in  the  departed,  and  brought  into  view  all  those  grounds 
for  comfort,  with  which  a  good  Christian  tries  to  uphold  the  hearts 
of  those  who  have  lost  some  dear  one;  but  this  well-meant  exordium 
fell  upon  Gorgo's  ear  as  if  it  had  been  addressed  to  her  in  some 
unknown  tongue,  and  not  until  Mariamne  drew  nearer,  and,  with 
motherly  kindness  drew  her  up  to  kiss  her,  and  incite  her  to  go 
home  with  her,  did  she  feel  at  all  touched,  recognizing  that  she 
meant  well,  and  had  ever  been  good  to  her. 

But  the  (Christian  matron's  last  words  had  reminded  her  of  a  duty 
that  she  felt  to  be  obligatory  upon  her,  and  so,  collecting  her  facul- 
ties, she  thanked  her  kindly,  and  begged  her  to  assist  her  in  re- 
moving the  corpse  to  the  ihalamos,  and  then  to  take  charge  of  its 
key. 

It  devolved  ujion  herself,  she  said,  to  seek  her  father,  because  no 
other  than  herself  should  inform  him  of  what  had  happened. 

Mariamne's  urgent  entreaty  that  she  should  swerve  from  this 
resolution,  and  pass  the  night  with  her,  she  positively  rejected. 

Coustantiae  had  so  far  remained  silent  in  the  background.  Kot 
until  Gorgo  approached  the  corpse  and  gave  orders  for  its  removal 
did  he  approach  her  and  hold  out  to  her  Jus  right  hand,  simply  and 
cordially. 

She  looked  him  full  in  the  face,  placed  her  hand  in  Ins  and  said 
softly:  "  1  had  done  you  injustice,  Constanline,  and  hurt  your  feel- 
ings; 1  was  really  sorry,  even  before  you  left.  You  bear  me  n(» 
grudge,  1  know,  for  you  have  felt  for  me  in  my  desolation,  and 
come  to  me.  There  is  nothing,  nothing  more  between  us  two,  is 
there?" 

"  24othing,  nothing!"  responded  he,  warmly,  and  in  the  excess  of 
his  feeling  he  grasped  her  other  hand,  too. 

It  seemed  now  as  though  every  drop  of  blood  mounted  to  her 
heart  with  a  sudden  rush,  as  though  he  were  a  part  of  her  being  that 
had  been  forcibly  torn  away  from  her,  and  must,  must  be  restored 
to  her,  though  it  cost  him  and  her  fortune  and  life. 

And  she  obeyed  this  impulse  and  withdrew  her  hands  from  his 
clasp,  in  order  to  fling  them  about  his  neck  and  cuddle  up  to  him 
fondly  as  a  sick  child  to  its  mother. 

She  knew  not  how  it  happened,  how  it  was  possible  that  it  could 
have  happened,  and  yet  happen  it  did,  that  without  heeding  Mari- 
amne— who  beheld  with  silent  horror  how  her  son's  lips  sought  and 
found  both  the  brow  and  mouth  of  the  fair  idolatress — that  she 
wept  upon  his  neck  and  felt  a  thousand  roses  blossom  in  her  soul 
and,  at  the  same  time,  a  thousand  thorns  lacerating  her  heart. 

What  had  happened  here  was  obliged  to  have  happened ;  it  was 
ber  betrothal  with  the  one  whom  she  loved,  and  at  the  same  time 
her  farewell  to  him.  The  destiny  of  her  life  was  lulfiUed  at  that 
moment.     What  was  left  for  both  was  to  perish  together  at  the 


146  SERAPIS. 

same  time  vHh  all  tilings  living,  and  she  looked  forward  to  it  as 
the  sleepless  man  does  (o  morning. 

Mariamiie  had  stepped  aside,  foi  she  had  the  dim  feeling  that 
some  great  event  was  passing  before  her.  that  something  irievo- 
cable  had  been  enacted  against  which  no  interference  woidd  avail. 

\Vhen  Gorgo  had  freed  lierselt  then  from  Constantine's  arms  there 
was  something  solemn,  vmapprochahle  in  hei  demeanor.  Slie  was 
like  a  grave  enigma  to  that  simple  woman  that  she  knew  not  how 
lo  solve,  but  it  did  her  good  wiien  Gorgo  came  forward  and  pressed 
her  lips  upon  her  hand.  Her  moulh  was  scaled,  as  it  were,  for  she 
telt  that  whatever  she  might  have  said  would  not  have  been  the 
right  thing,  and  afforded  her  great  leliet,  that  she  could  soon  show 
herself  helptul  in  the  removal  of  the  corpse. 

Gorgo  had  carefully  covered  up  the  still  face,  and  when  the  de- 
ceased had  been  carried  into  the  lower  story  and  laid  out  upon  the 
broad  nuptial  couch  in  the  thalamoa,  she  decorated  this  with  flowers. 

The  priest  of  Saturn  meanwhile  had  entered,  and  asserted  that  no 
power  in  the  world  coidd  have  restored  life  to  this  inanimate  bodj-. 
Damia's  unexpected  end  and  the  young  girl's  griet  touched  the  true 
man  deeply,  and  he  immediately  gave  consent,  when  Gorgo,  in  a 
low  tone,  asked  him  to  wait  for  her  at  the  garden  gate,  and  thence 
conduct  her  to  her  father. 

As  soon  as  he  had  retired  she  handed  over  the  keys  of  the  trunks 
and  presses  of  the  deceased,  then  entered  the;  adjoining  room,  where 
CoDstanline  had  waited  while  the  bier  was  being  decorated,  and 
gave  him  a  serious  and  apparently  composed  farewell. 

He  extended  his  arm,  in  order  to  emlirace  her  again,  but  she 
would  not  sufler  it,  and  when  he  implored  her  t  >  follow  him  she 
answered  sadly,  "  ]S(o,  dear  one,  1  may  uot.  I  have  other  duties 
now." 

Then  he  exclaimed  ursrenily:  "  Mine  call  me  too,  but  you  have 
given  yourself  to  me.  \ov\  are  my  own.  Tou  no  longer  belong  to 
yourself  alone,  and  1,  1  desire,  1  "demand,  that  you  grant  my  first 
request.  Go  with  my  mother,  or  stay  here  with  the  departed. 
M'herever  your  father  may  be  is  not,  can  not  be  the  riffht  i)lace  for 
my  betrotlied  bride.  1  "suspect  wiiere  he  tariies.  Be  warned, 
Gorgo.  The  fate  of  the  old  gods  is  sealed.  We  are  the  stronger, 
and  so  soon  as  to-morrow  —by  yourself,  by  all  that  I  hold  dearest 
and  most  sacred— to-morrow  Serapis  falls." 

"  I  know  it!"  answered  she,  firmly.  "  You  have  orders  to  lay 
hands  on  the  godV" 

"  I  have,  and  shall  obey  them." 

She  nodded  at  him  approvingly,  and  said  resignedly  and  without 
resentment:  "  You  are  performing  your  duty  and  can  not  do  otlier- 
wise!  But  however  it  may  eventuate,  we  are  one.  Conslantine, 
one.  Nothing  can  part  us.  Whatever  happens  we  liclong  to  each 
other,  and  stand  together,  I  by  ^ou,  you  by  me.  even  to  the  end." 

So  saying  she  held  out  her")i"and  to  him  and  gave  him  one  long 
look  that  was  lull  ol  love.  Tlien  she  once  more  tlirew  herself 
upon  his  mother's  bosom,  and  kissed  her  fervently. 

"  Come,  come  with  me,  my  child!"  implored  Maiiamne,  but  she 
extricated  herself  from  her  embrace  and  cried  out.  "  Go,  if  you  love 
me.  and  leave  me  alone!" 


SERAPIS.  147 

Ro  saying  she  returned  to  the  thalmnos,  where  rested  the  departed, 
and  before  me  otheis  followed  her  had  opened  one  of  the  doors  con- 
cealed by  the  tapestry  on  the  wall,  and  naade  haste  until  she  was  out 
in  the  open  air. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

TiTE  night  was  dark  and  sultry.  Dark  masses  of  cloud  were 
heaped  together  in  the  north,  and  above  Lake  Mceris,  upon  whose 
ashen-gray  surface  crisp  liUle  waves  were  dashing  up  foam,  hovered 
a  whitisli  mist  like  vapor  over  a  hot  bath. 

The  moon  looked  pale  and  blindly,  as  it  were,  out  of  a  brownish 
circle  of  tog;  a  spectral  gloom  overshadowed  the  roads  and  the 
heat-radiatiug  houses  of  the  city. 

In  the  west,  over  the  desert,  a  smutty  brimstone  yellow  tinged  the 
black  clouds  in  the  sky,  and  at  intervals  blinding  flashes  of  distant 
liglitniug  came  from  the  north,  quivering  through  the  hot  and 
murky  atmosphere. 

A  warm  wind  from  the  south-west  drove  clear  sand  into  the 
streets,  across  the  lake.  These  fine  molecules  of  dust  stung  and 
burned  the  cheeks  of  the  passers-by  wlio  walked  further,  with 
downcast  eyes  and  closed  lips. 

Nrituie,  like  man,  seemed  to  have  been  overtaken  by  some  deep 
trouble.  The  air  that  came  in  tittul  gusts,  the  coming  and  going 
of  forked  lightning,  the  queer  form  and  coloring  of  those  portentous 
clouas,  all  gave  to  this  night  an  unwonted  sickly  and  distressing 
aspect.  It  Wrts  as  thougli  heavens,  water,  air,  and  earth  were 
making  ready  for  something  of  unheard-of  awffulness. 

Gorgo  had  thrown  on  a  mantle,  and  covered  her  head  with  a 
veil,  a"nd  followed  the  priest  of  Saturn  with  glowing  brow  and 
stroniily  beating  beart. 

When  she  b^jard  steps  behind  her  she  started,  for  it  might  be 
Constantine  following  her;  when  a  fresh  gust  of  wind  peppered  her 
face  with  prickly  particles  of  sand,  or  the  lightnina-  gave  to  the 
clouds  a  more  lurid  lint,  her  blood  stopped  flowing,  lor  did  not 
these  signs  betoken  the  first  act  of  the  final  tragedy  so  soon  to  be 
enacted? 

She  was  familiar  with  the  road  that  she  had  traversed,  but  its 
length  seemed  to  have  become  tenfold  on  this  occasion. 

At  last,  however,  she  reached  its  limit. 

At  one  of  the  entrances  to  her  father's  lumber-yard  she  gave  the 
watchword  and  sign  designated. 

Soon  she  had  left  behind  her  the  beams  and  piles  of  wood  which 
hid  the  entrance  to  the  canal;  a  slave  whom  she  knew,  preceded  her 
with  a  torch,  and  now  began  the  walk  through  the  underground 
passage. 

It  was  hot  and  mustj'  enough  in  here,  and  bats,  which  had  been 
scared  up  by  the  torch  of  the  guide,  flew  around  flapping  their  soft, 
phantom-like  wings,  and  filling  her  with  feai  and  disgust;  never- 
tlieless  she  felt  less  timid  here  than  in  the  open  air,  and  as  she  pur- 
sued her  way,  meditating  upon  the  venerated  temple  of  Serapis,  and 
pictured  to  herself  its  wondrous  beauty  and  solemnly  exalted  grand- 


148  SERAPIS. 

eur.  there  came  over  lier  a  longing  to  get  to  that  supremely  glorious 
goal  that  banished  all  anxieiy. 

To  submit  to  death  there,  to  perish  there  with  her  beloved,  did 
not  seem  hard  to  her;  yes,  it  was  a  proud  privilege  to  be  permitted 
to  await  one's  last  hour  in  the  most  illustrious  abode  ever  erected 
by  mortal  man  in  honor  ot  a  god. 

Let  destiny  be  accomplished  here;  the  highest  boon  that  she  had 
asked  of  life  had  been  granted  her,  and  where  was  there  on  eaith  a 
prouder  monument  than  the  sanctuary  of  the  ruler  ot  the  world, 
whose  supremacy  tbe  other  gods  too  tremblingly  acknowledged? 
She  had  known  tlie  sacreii  halls  ot  that  gigantic  building  from  a 
child  up,  and  she  fancied  them  crowded  with  thousands  ot  noble 
souls  whom  the  same  lofty  sentiment  linked  together  as  brothers  in 
this  momentous  hour. 

In  spirit  she  heard  the  pious  song  streaming  from  the  oversowing 
hearts  of  inspired  youths  and  men,  who  were  ready  to  lose  lite  tor 
the  god  of  their  fathers;  she  breathed  the  smoke  of  burnt-offerings 
and  the  odor  of  incense;  she  saw  choirs  of  young  men  led  b}' priests, 
in  grave,  measured  movements,  encircling  garlanded  altars  with 
the  mazes  of  a  graceful,  solemn  dance. 

Among  the  oTd  men  who  liad  crowded  around  Olympius  gravely 
discussing  the  latest  phenomena  and  the  inner  kernel  ot  the  my.ster- 
ies  among  the  adepts,*  who  from  the  observations  of  thp  Berapeum 
followed  in  rapt  suspense  the  significant  course  of  the  stars,  the 
drifting  of  the  clouds,  and  the  flight  of  birds,  she  would  surely  find 
her  father  too;  and  the  fresh  wound  in  her  heart  began  to  bleed 
anew  as  she  represented  to  herself  how  deeply  he  must  be  shocked 
and  pained  by  the  news  ot  which  she  was  the  bearer. 

However,  she  would  surely  find  him  in  grave  and  solemn  mood, 
filled  with  pain  at  the  destined  destruction  of  the  world,  but  prepared 
to  meet  the  heaviest  calamity  with  dignified  composure,  and  so  she 
should  bring  her  tidings  of  woe  to  a  well-prepared  heart. 

She  was  not  afraid  of  encountering  the  throng  of  men  assembled 
in  the  Serapeum.  Iler  father  and  Olympius  were  there  to  piotect 
her,  and  in  Dame  Herse  too  she  should  find  a  reserve;  but  even  with- 
out these  three  sl.e  durst  mingle  unsolicitously  with  those  thousands, 
on  this  serious  ni.nht,  perhaps  the  last  of  all  nights,  because  she  was 
convinced  that  every  sincere  friend  ot  the  gods  was  expecting  his 
own  end  and  the  falling  of  the  sky,  with  only  less  apprehension 
perhaps  than  herself,  a  feeble  girl. 

Such  was  the  tenor  of  her  thoughts  until,  with  her  guide,  she  ar- 
rived at  a  strong  gale. 

After  this  had  also  been  opened  to  her,  they  trod  the  subterranean 
vaults  which  were  dedicated  to  the  solemnization  of  the  mysteries  of 
the  god,  and  wherein  adepts  have  to  submit  to  severe  tests  before 
they  were  deemed  worthy  of  sharing  the  higher  duties  ot  the 
esoterics. 

The  halls,  chambers  and  passages  now  trod  by  her  for  the  first 
time  were  dimly  lighted  by  lamps" and  torches,  and  what  met  her 
view  during  this  progress  tilled  her  with  pious  awe,  and  worked 
mightily  upon  the  power  of  her  imagination. 

♦  Those  who  had  been  iuitiated  into  the  mysteries. 


SERAPIS.  149 

All  that  she  saw,  every  room,  column  and  statue,  deviated  from 
the  ordmary  and  natural  in  its  forms,  relations  and  appurtenances. 

To  a  pyramidal  chamber,  whose  triangular  inclined  sides  met 
together  in  a  point,  followed  a  hall  shaped  iil^e  a  many-sided  prism. 

A  road  flanked  by  spbinxes  led  tlnough  a  long,  wide  passage, 
and  here  Bhe  had  to  cling  to  her  escort,  for  close  behind  the  mixed 
shapes  to  her  riuht  yawned  a  dismal  abyss.  On  another  side  rush- 
ing water  dashed  over  her  and  plunged  with  wild  commotion  into 
the  depths  beinw.  Immediately  afterward  she  came  to  a  spacious 
giotto'hewn  out  of  the  living  rock,  and  out  of  this  grinned  at  her  a 
row  of  gilded  crocodile  heads.  Here  the  smell  of  smoke  grown  cold 
and  pungent  resin  oppressed  lier  breathing,  and  the  path  led  her 
over  gridirons  and  marvelously  shaped  ovens.  From  the  walls 
looked  at  her  hideously  painted  figures  of  condemned  criminals, 
Tar>tuius,  Ixion  and  Sisyphus  rolling  liis  stone.  At  her  side  were 
caverns  with  iron  doors,  as  closely  locked  as  though  behind  them 
were  secured  countless  treasures  or  unapproachable  secrets,  and  her 
dress  grazed  many  a  statue  and  tool  that  was  closely  shrouded  in 
tapestry  or  curtaining. 

If  she  looked  sideways  she  saw  horrible  monstrosities  and  mys- 
terious figures  and  embiems;  it  she  looked  up,  her  eyes  met  here  the 
human  and  bestial  figures  of  the  zodiac,  that,  in  Egyptian  style,  sail 
in  ships  and  boats  over  the  back  of  a  woman  stretched  out  at  full 
length;  there  pictures  from  the  master  hand  of  some  Greek  artist; 
the  jPleiades,  the  twin  knights  Castor  and  Pollux,  with  stars  upon 
their  foreheads,  and  Berenice's  hair  studded  with  stars. 

Confusing,  harrowing  was  the  impression  made  upon  the  pilgrim 
by  this  mysteiious  net  her  world. 

What  she  saw  in  passing  by  was  only  dimly  lighted,  hardly  dis- 
tinguishable, and  yet  wore  the  spell  of  enchantment;  what  myster- 
ies and  w^onders  did  not  what  she  saw  inclose? 

It  seemed  to  her  as  though  that  eml  of  earthly  existence  for  which 
she  waited  had  begun,  and  she  were  already  living  as  a  guest  in 
gloomy  Iladcs. 

Gradually  the  path  ascended,  and  finally  a  winding  staircase  led 
her  up  to  the  main  body  of  the  temple.  Sometimes  she  had  been 
met  by  men,  but  a  solemn  repose  had  prevailed  throughout  those 
subterranean  regions.  The  deep  stillness  had  only  become  more 
perceptible  through  the  hollow  sound  of  approaching  and  retreating 
footsteps. 

It  must  be  so,  phe  had  expected  to  find  it  so  here.  This  repose 
reminded  her  of  nature's  deep  silence  before  the  bursting  forth  of  a 
raging  tempest. 

While  Gorgo  was  going  upstairs  she  removed  the  covering  from 
her  head,  arranged  the  folds  of  her  robe,  and  straightened  herself  up 
into  that  dignified  priestly  bearing  assumed  by  noble  virgins,  who 
drew  near  to  the  altar  of  deity.  But  the  higher  she  came  the  louder 
grew  the  babel  of  sounds  that  greeted  her  ears.  Flute-playing  ami 
the  beating  of  drums  were  specially  noticeable.  She  thought  that 
the  religious  circular  dance  had  begun. 

Now  she  stood  in  one  ot  thcapailnientsat  thesideot  iha  hypostyle. 
Her  attendant  opened  a  tall  door  adorned  with  gilded  bronze  and 
silver,  while  Gorgo,  stepping  solemnly  with  high  head  and  down- 


150  SERAPIS. 

cast  eyes,  followed  him  into  the  consecrated  precincts,  where,  in 
unclouded  f^lory,  sat  culhroued  the  sacred  image  of  the  god. 

Without  pause  she  traversed  the  colonnade  at  the  side  ot  the 
hypoHtyle,  and  descended  the  two  steps  which  led  into  the  bioad  body 
ot  the  greatest  and  noblest  of  all  the  rooms  in  the  temple. 

The  wild  alarm  which  she  had  heard  through  the  door  when  it 
opened,  had  surprised  and  bewildered  her,  and  now  when  in  blank 
amazement  she  opened  her  eyes  and  looked  about  her,  such  a  horror 
and  diead  seized  upon  her  as  the  tiaveler  in  the  dark  experiences, 
when,  naving  believed  himself  treading  a  flowery  mead,  he  discovers 
that  the  mire  of  a  bottomless  marsh  is  dragging  him  below. 

Reeling,  she  supported  herself  on  the  s"tatue  of  the  nearest  god, 
and  while  she  asked  herself  whether  she  were  awake  or  dreaming, 
she  looked  around,  shuddered,  and  listened  moie  intently. 

What  was  going  on  there  she  did  not  want  to  see  and  hear;  it 
struck  her  as  repulsive,  abominable  and  loathsome;  but  it  was  too 
patent  to  be  overlooked  and  ignored,  and  it  was  as  real  as  it  was 
common  and  disgusting. 

For  a  long  time  eye  and  ear  were  spell-bound  and  hei  limbs  para- 
lyzed, but  soon  deeply  wounded,  she  clapped  her  hands  before  her 
face,  and  wounded  maidenly  ir.odesly,  cruel  disenchantment  and 
holy  indignation  at  the  wanton  desecratitm  of  what  she  deemed  hal- 
lowed and  irreproachable,  rushed  in  torrents  over  her  deeply  ag- 
grieved soul,  and  she  could  but  weep — weep  bitterly,  as  she  had 
never  done  before  since  she  was  born. 

bobbing,  she  threw  her  veil  over  her  face,  and  muffled  herself  up 
as  though  she  were  guarding  herself  against  cold  and  frost. 

Nobody  paid  any  heed  to  her.  Her'escort  had  forsaken  her,  too, 
in  order  to  look  for  her  father.  She  must  await  his  return,  and 
sought  for  a  hidmg-place.  Then  she  caught  sight  of  a  woman  in 
mourning  garb,  who  cowered  low  beneath  the  slatne  of  the  goddess 
of  justice.  She  recognized  the  widow  of  Asclepiodor,  and'witha 
sigh  of  relief  she  drew  nearer  to  her  and  said,  weeping:  "  Let  me 
sit  here;  we  are  both  mourners." 

"  Yes,  yes!"  responded  the  other,  and  without  knowing  what 
had  befallen  Gorgo,  and  only  controlled  by  the  mysterious  fascina- 
tion of  meeting  with  one  who,  like  ourselves,  is  tastinir  of  bitter 
grief,  she  drew  her  up  close  to  herself,  and  at  her  side  found  once 
more  ability  to  shed  soothing  tears. 

So  sat  those  mourners  silently  together,  and  before  them  tossed 
and  raved  unbridled  pleasure. 

A  knot  of  men  and  women  waltzed  with  loud  uproar  through  the 
halls  of  the  temple. 

Without  time  or  measure  the  flutes  shrieked,  the  cymbals  clashed, 
and  drum-skina  groaned  over  the  mad  revelers. 

Intoxicated  patit^iphoi'i  had  opened  the  chambers  where  were  stored 
thetpriests*  roi)es  and  teiuple  utensils,  and  drimken  men  had  dragged 
out  the  panther  skins,  such  as  the  priests  wore  when  otTlciating. 
brass  carriages,  wooden  bieis,  upon  whicii  the  images  ot  the  cods 
were  borne  in  solemn  processions,  and  other  things. 

In  the  hall  at  the  side  of  those  pillngcd  rooius,  numerous  students 
and  young  girls  had  stayed  behind  iiiul  wire  there  piepaiing  some 


SERA  PIS.  151 

(bing  grand,  in  which  service  much  time  and  grape  juice  were  ex- 
pended. 

ilost  of  the  plunderers  had  immediately  repaired  to  the  hypostyle 
with  their  booty,  and  there  treated  to  wonderful  things. 

A.  fat  vineyard-dresser  must  needs  represent  Father  Dionysus, 
and  was  enthroned  upon  a  four-wheeled  sacrificing  cart  of  heavy 
beaten  brass,  with  gay  gai lands  of  Howers  twined  around  his  naked 
limbs.  A  pitcher  of  alabaster  stood  between  his  monstrous  legs,  and 
his  greasy  paunch  shook  from  laughter,  while  a  hallooing  crowd 
drew  liim  through  the  sacred  hall  in  wild  career. 

In  mad  excitement,  unmanned  by  the  frenzy  of  intoxication,  the 
drunkards  had  cast  off  their  clothes,  and  these  lay  around  in  a 
motley  heap  between  the  pillars  and  in  red  pools  of  wine.  Around 
the  flushed  faces  of  the  girls  floated  disheveled  hair,  in  which  hung 
confusedly  withering  leaves  and  brilliant  flowers.  Youths,  men, 
old  people,  leaped  as  if  possessed,  with  Inyrsian  staves  and  the  rude 
symbols  of  the  fruit-dispensing  god  at  their  side. 

A  few  priests  and  philosophers  did  their  best  to  quell  the  tumult 
and  exhort  to  moderation,  but  a  drunken  flute-player  planted  him- 
self in  front  of  them,  threw  back  his  head  and  shoulders,  blowing 
so  lustily  into  the  double  flute  which  now  pointed  skyward  that  it 
were  enough  to  rouse  the  dead,  and  his  female  companion  hurled 
her  tambourine  upon  the  impertinent  establisher  of  peace.  Clatter- 
ing, it  bounded  against  the  shaft  of  a  column,  fell  upon  the  bald 
head  of  an  augur,  ami  by  him  was  cast  further.  Other  timbrels 
followed  the  first,  and  soon  one  tambourine  after  the  other  clove  the 
air,  aimed  at  the  heads  of  the  drunken. 

Everybody  wanted  to  snatch  one  of  the  timbrels,  so  they  jumped 
after  them,  wrestled  for  them,  and  with  the  calf -skin  beat  upon  their 
neighbors'  heads. 

Intoxicated  girls  had  swung  themselves  into  the  idol-chariots, 
and  screeched  aloud  excited  by  mingled  pain  and  pleasure,  while 
reeling  bearers  dragged  them  in  a  rapid  course  through  the  hall.  In 
so  doing  one  of  the  wenches  lost  her  balance,  when  she  was  picked 
up  amid  wild  shrieks  of  laughter  and  forced  to  resume  her  place 
upon  her  perilous  throne. 

The  car  holding  the  vine-dresser  also  came  to  grief  by  means,  to 
be  sure,  of  the  body  of  some  stupidly  drunken  creature;  but  nobody 
set  the  vehicle  to  rights,  and  while  the  unhappy  man  was  struggling 
in  vain  with  lamentable  howls  to  extricate  himself  from  the  box  in 
which  he  was  held  fast,  thirty  young  men  who  had  harnessed 
themselves  to  the  car  dragged  it  further  and  past  Gorgo,  who  be- 
held with  speechless  indignation  how  the  hard  brass  of  the  creaking 
axle-trees  crunched  remorselessly  right  through  the  exquisite  mosaic 
figure,  the  center-piece  of  the  hall  pavement.  At  last  his  own 
weight  gave  freedom  to  the  unconscious  Bacchanal,  and  now  his  mad 
train  called  him  back  to  life  by  turning  him  over  and  dipping  his 
wild-looking,  l:)leeding  head  into  a  tremendous  \ase  of  mixed 
liquors.  Around  the  rescued  Dionysus  then  twirled  hundreds  in 
the  mazes  of  a  licentious  dance;  and  because  every  tambourine  was 
broken,  and  the  fluie  players  out  of  breath,  ilrunken  fellows  beat 
tunes  on  the  pillars  with  their  Thyrsian  staves,  and  three  students, 


152  SERAPIS. 

like  mad,  blew  brazen  trumpets  which  they  had  found  among  the 
temple  ulensils. 

But  much  opposition  was  raised  to  this  uproar. 

Next  approached  a  pious  band  that,  with  veiled  heads  in  the 
iieighborhood  ot  the  image  of  Serapis,  mimicked  the  conjurations 
of  a  magician,  and  howled  piteously;  then  these  gave  place  to  ora- 
tors, who  had  somehow  managed  to  attract  some  auditors;  and  lastly 
play-actois  and  singers,  who  had  collected  in  the  vestibule  in  order 
to  act  a  play  of  satyrs,  which,  indeed,  was  so  wanton  and  senseless 
that  the  trumpet-blowers  had  but  little  the  advantage  of  them. 

As  opposition  helped  the  acting  none,  the  players  rushed  from  the 
vestibule  into  the  hypostyleand  tried  to  silence  the  restorers  of  peace 
by  dint  of  force. 

A  Inerce  battle  ensued;  but  the  combatants  were  soon  parted,  and 
now  the  actors  and  their  opponents  fell  into  each  other's  arms,  and 
an  Homeric  poet,  who  bad  put  together  an  elegy  for  this  evening 
on  "  The  Gods  Oppressed  by  the  liosts  of  Superstition,"  made  up 
ot  verses  extracted  from  the  "  Iliad  "  and  the  "  Odyssey,"  seized 
tins  favorable  opportunity  and  began  reading  aloud  to  drown  the 
noise,  wbeu  the  very  successful  fruit  of  the  work  before  alluded  to 
in  the  store-room,  outbidding  everything  else,  entered  the  basilica. 

A  storm  ot  admiration  and  delight  was  raised.  Even  the  most 
drunken  articulated  a  word  of  rapture,  and  in  this  there  was  indeed 
ottered  to  their  intoxicated  gaze  a  beautiful  and  gorgeously  colored 
picture. 

Upon  the  lofty  pedestal,  destined  to  bear  a  smaller  image  of  Sera- 
pis,  and  the  holy  symbols  of  the  god  at  great  festivals;  stood  Gly- 
cera,  Ihe  most  beautiful  courtesan  in  the  city,  and  she  was  rolled  in 
triumph  throufrh  the  haU  by  jubilant  young  men. 

Bhe  lay  in  a  great  wooden  trough,  meant  to  represent  a  shell, 
upon  the  summit  ot  the  scattolding,  and  on  its  lower  steps  sat  every- 
where graceful  girls,  who  made  pretty  but  improper  gestures,  some- 
times directed  to  her,  sometimes  to  her  male  attendants,  svho  tried 
to  pick  up  the  flowers  that  they  were  scattering,  and  fought  over 
them  with  lover  like  ardor.  In  the  beautiful  courtesan  every  one 
had  recognized  Aphrodite,  born  of  the  foam,  and  with  one  mouth, 
as  it  were,  she  was  proclaimed  and  honored  as  queen  of  the  world. 

Speedily  men  rushed  up  to  pour  out  libations  to  her  and  encircle 
her.  hand  in  hand,  with  loud  singing,  and  in  the  giddy  whirl  of  a 
wildly  exciting  dance. 

'■  To  Serapis  with  her!  Let  us  marry  her  to  the  god!"  shrieked  a 
drunken  student. 

"  Heavenly  Love  is  his  bride!" 

"  To  Serapis!"  shrieked  others  echoing  him.  "  Glycera  solemnizes 
her  marriage  wiiii  the  god  this  very  night!" 

And  now  moved  tlie  motley  besotted  crowd  toward  the  image 
behind  the  mammoth  curtain,  and  with  them  the  towering  pedestal 
surmounted  by  that  beautiful,  laughing  woman. 

The  liglitning  and  rolling  ot  distant  thunder  had  hitherto  re- 
mained unheeded,  but  now  a  blinding  light  flashed  through  the 
hall,  and  at  tlie  same  lime  came  a  latlline,  crashing,  and  growling 
clap  ot  thiiudei  that  shook  the  desecrated  aboiieot  deity.  Sulphur- 
ous vapor  penetrated  through  Ihe  open  windows  under  the  roof ,  and 


SERAPIS.  153 

a  second  flash  of  lightning  quickly  followed  the  first,  and  this 
seemed  to  have  rent  the  heavens  asunder,  for  there  followed  it  a  shat- 
tering, deafenino-  roar,  so  hideous  and  appalling  a  din,  as  (hough 
the  Icey-stoue  to  the  flrinament  had  given  way  and  the  heavens  were 
to  be  precipitated  upon  the  earth,  Alexandria  and  the  Serapeum. 

With  uncontrollable  impatience  tlie  monstrous  power  of  an  Alri- 
can  tempest  discharged  itself;  and  ihe  roisterers  hushed  suddenly, 
the  sroblet  fell  untasted  from  the  guzzler's  trembling  lips;  glowing 
cheeks  turned  pale,  the  dancers  broke  their  chain,  and  uplifted  their 
hands  in  prayer,  while  lips,  awhile  ago  bawling  and  blaspheming, 
opened  now  in  cries  for  mercy.  The  nymphs  in  the  retinue  ot 
Venus  sprung  tremblingly  from  their  perch,  and  the  foam-born 
Aphrodite  in  the  shell  sought  to  free  herself  from  the  veils  and 
garlands  of  flowers  which  had  been  wrapped  about  her,  and  not 
being  able  to  reach  the  lower  step  of  the  scaffolding,  uttered  a  loud 
shriek  ot  distress.  Other  voices  mingled  with  hers,  bowling,  curs- 
ing, and  bewailing  their  fate;  for  through  the  uncurtained  windows 
dashad  and  splashed  chilling  moisture  from  the  rain-spout  into  ihe 
halls  and  upon  the  heated  limbs  of  the  drunken  revelers. 

The  storm  howled  through  the  vast  circumference  of  the  Sera- 
peum,  thunder  and  lightning  raved  on  in  unbroken  power,  and  like 
anis  whose  hill  has  been  disturbed,  the  horrified,  half  sobered  con- 
vivialists  huddled  together  uneasily,  almost  beside  themselves. 

And  into  the  midst  of  this  confusion  rushed  Orpheus,  the  sou  of 
Karnis,  who  had,  up  to  this  time,  kept  watch  upon  the  root,  and 
shrieked:  "  The  world  goes  under;  the  heavens  have  opened!  My 
father,  oh,  where  is  my  father?" 

And  everybody  believed  him,  pulled  off  their  wreaths,  tore  their 
hair,  and  gave  themselves  up  to  wild  despair. 

"Whimpering  and  wailing,  raging  and  loss  of  composure  ran  from 
one  to  another;  and  without  hope  ot  a  morrow,  or  even  another 
hour,  each  one  thought  only  of  himself,  his  own  clothes,  and  how 
he  could  hide  his  naked,  shivering  body,  and  save  it  from  perishing 
through  cold. 

To  that  wild  scuffling  after  clothes  that  had  been  thrown  aside, 
were  added  loud  groans,  piteous  wails  of  despair,  the  harrowing 
cries  of  women  and  children,  and  the  sobs  of  those  unhappy  ones 
who  had  been  smitten  by  panic. 

It  was  a  pitiable  scene,  calling  forth  pity  and  abhorrence.  Gorgo 
beheld  it,  and  ground  her  teelh  for  shame  and  indignation,  wishing 
that  an  end  might  be  put  to  herself  and  the  world  as  a  riddance. 

These  lunatics,  these  wretches,  these  cowardly  wights,  these  ani- 
mals in  the  shape  of  men  and  women  deserved  nothing  better  than 
destruction;  but  was  it  to  be  imagined  that  God  would  reduce  to 
nothingness  His  wisely,  beautifully  ordered  universe  for  the  sake  of 
this  abominable  rabble? 

The  thunder  and  lightning  roared  and  flashed  about  her  after- 
ward as  before;  but  she  believed  no  more  in  the  end  of  things,  be- 
lieved no  more  in  the  greatness,  majesty,  and  purity  ot  the  god 
there  bebind  that  curtain. 

With  glowintr  cheeks,  red  for  shame,  she  felt  as  if  it  were  a  dis- 
grace lo  be  reckoned  amonu  his  adherents;  and  as  the  bowlings  of 
the  despairing  multitude  pierced  her  ear  in  ever  louder  and  piteous 


154  SERA  PIS. 

sounds,  Conslantine's  earnest,  tearless  form  ptesonled  ituelt  before 
bei  soul  in  all  its  beauty  and  power. 

She  was  his,  wholly  and  forever  his,  and  in  future,  pillowed  upon 
his  breast,  she  would  share  with  him  everything .  his  love,  his 
house,  his  dignity,  and  also  bis  God. 


CHAPTER    XXll. 

Through  those  heavy  clouds  that  emptied  themselves  upon  the 
Serapeum  glimmered  the  faint  lijrht  of  coming  dawn;  but  this  ihe 
agonized  heathen  did  not  note.  No  leader,  no  eslablisher  of  peace, 
no  comforter  restored  to  them  courage  and  composure,  forOlympius 
and  his  guests,  the  leaders  of  intellectual  lite  in  Alexander's  city, 
also  the  protectors  ot  this  sanctuary,  kept  those  beneath  them  long 
in  waiting. 

The  lightning,  which  iiad  struck  the  brass  cupola,  and  darting 
off  had  followed  a  flag-slalf,  had  terrified  the  tree-thinkers  and 
philosophers,  too,  and  the  symposium  was  brought  to  a  conclusion 
only  a  trifle  less  undignified  "than  the  orgies  in  the  temple  halls. 

Among  the  friends"of  the  high-priest  only  a  tew,  to  be  sure,  had 
been  carried  out  ot  themselves  so  far  as  to  show  their  deadly  fear 
undisguisedly;  but  instead  ot  it,  at  the  table  ot  Olympius  no  sooner 
did  the  crisis  seem  imminent,  than  declaiming  and  actinff  became 
more  pronounced,  and  Gorgo's  respect  foi  her  tellow-btlievers  would 
nut  have  been  specially  increased  if  she  could  have  hear(t  the  re- 
nowned grammarian  and  biograph3^-writer  Helladius  with  trem- 
bling knees  and  bloodless  lips,  recitinir  some  verses  from  the  chained 
Prometheus  while  the  thunder  rolled;  and  how  the  grammarian 
Ammonius,  who  had  written  a  famous  bcok  on  "  Expressions  Like 
and  Unlike,"  fore  open  his  robe  and  l)ared  his  breast  as  a  target 
for  the  lightning,  with  a  glance  aiound,  challenging  the  admiration 
of  those  present.  Alas!  his  herniculemeanor  was  observed  only  by 
a  tew,  tor  most  of  them,  includinir  the  new  Platonic  philosopher, 
historiographer,  and  firrce  toe  to  the  Christians,  Eunapius,  had  cov- 
ered their  heads  with  their  mantles  and  awaited  the  final  catastroplie 
in  dull  resignation.  Some  had  fallen  on  their  knees  to  pi  ay  with 
uplifted  hands  or  to  murmur  adjurations;  and  a  poet  who  had  won 
crowns  by  his  didactic  poem,  "  Man,  the  Lord  and  Master  of  tiie 
Gods,"  had  fallen  down  in  a  tainting  tit,  his  laurel  decorating  the 
dish  of  oysters  beside  his  couch. 

Olympius  had  left  his  seat  as  symposiarch,  and  leaned  with  coni- 
l)osiire  against  the  door-post,  awaiting  death  with  manly  courage. 

Father  Karnis,  too,  who  had  applied  too  freely  to  the  wine-bottle, 
but  had  been  restored  to  sobriety  upon  the  outbreak  of  the  sti>rm, 
jumped  up  and  flurried  out  past  the  high-priest.  He  knew  that  his 
wife  and  sou  were  not  far  oft,  and  wished  to  die  in  their  proximity. 

Porphyrins,  as  well  as  his  neighbor,  the  great  surgeon  Apuleius, 
belonged  to  the  number  of  those  who  had  covered  their  heads  with 
their  mantles.  More  peacefully  than  many  another  could  he  face 
coming  ruin;  for,  like  a  provident  man  and  fai -seeing  mercUaut,  he 
liad  cared  for  everything. 

Did  the  world  remain  standing  desjiiie  ilie  victory  of  the  Chris- 


SERAPIS.  155 

tians,  and  did  that  law  stand  in  torce  against  him  which  declared 
the  last  will  of  an  apostate  invalid,  then  a  p/incely  estate,  that  neither 
church  nor  state  could  touch,  was  held  in  leadiness  for  his  family 
by  a  ricli  and  reliable  friend.  On  the  contrary,  should  heaven  and 
earth  indeed  be  destroyed,  he  was  secured  against  a  tedious  and 
torluring  death,  by  an  unfailing  medicine  that  he  carried  about  his 
person. 

While  thunder  and  lightning  were  venting  their  fury,  he,  with 
Olympius'  other  guests,  had  spent  many  long  and  anxious  mo- 
ments; suddenly  in  rushed  Karnis'  son,  Orpheus,  shouting  just  as 
passionately  and  despairingly  as  he  had  done  a  few  minutes  before 
in  the  great  hall  of  the  temple:  "  Tlie  end!  the  end!  The  world  is 
coming  to  pieces!  Fire  is  falling  from  heaven!  Flames!  Fire  is 
consuming  the  earth  aheady.  Here,  with  my  own  eyes,  have  1  seen 
it!     1  come  from  the  roof.     Father!     Where  is  my  father?" 

At  this  outcry,  Olympius'  guests  started  up  wilh  fresh  horror, 
and  the  mathematician  Pappus  shrieked:  "The  burning  of  the 
world  has  begun!     Consuming  fire  bursts  from  tlie  skies!" 

"Lost,  lost!"  wailed  Eunapius;  but  the  merchant  Porphyrins 
quickly  thrust  his  hand  withiu  tne  folds  of  his  purple  festal  robe, 
and  drew  forth  a  small  crystal  vi.il,  and  with  pale  but  composed 
features  stepped  up  to  the  high-priest,  aod  laying  his  hand  upon 
tlie  arm  of  him  to  wiiom  he  had  been  all  liis  life-time  devoted  with 
tenderness  and  admiration,  he  gazed  fondly  upon  him,  and  whis- 
pered in  his  ear:  "  Farewell,  friend!  How  often  have  we  argued 
over  Cato  and  his  end:  you  against,  1  for  him.  Now  1  imitate  him. 
See,  here  is  enough  for  us  both!" 

So  saying,  he  quickly  put  the  vial  to  his  mouih,  and  a  poition  of 
its  contents  had  wet  his  lips  before  Olympius  had  recovered  from 
his  surprise,  and  caught  him  in  his  arms. 

The  eflect  of  the  deadly  poison  showed  itself  instantaneously. 
But  hardly  had  the  merchant  lost  consciousness  before  the  physician 
Apuleius  Imrried  to  his  assistance. 

This  excellent  man  had  allowed  himself  to  partake  of  the  uni- 
versal dismay,  and  was  awaiting  tlie  end  of  all  things  in  silent  resig- 
nation. No  sooner,  however,  had  the  call  for  medical  aid  resound- 
ed through  the  hall,  than  he  dad  freed  his  head  from  its  covering 
and  hurried  to  the  merchant's  side  in  order  to  counteract  the  effect 
of  the  poison  with  as  much  promptness  and  acumen  as  he  uad  ever 
sliown  in  his  best  days  by  the  sick-bed  or  in  the  lecture-room. 

When  tlie  soul  seems  given  over  to  despair,  then  is  a  sense  of 
duty  the  last  and  only  principle  that  can  nerve  and  once  more  bring 
it  into  action,  and  it  shows  what  a  high  instinctive  regard  men 
really  have  for  this  life  against  which  they  aie  accustomed  to 
inveigh  so  loudly,  that  they  will  exert  themselves  as  earnestly  and 
tenderly  for  its  preservation  just  before  it  terminates  as  when  it 
was  in  the  flush  of  youth  and  strength. 

The  merchant's  desperate  deed  had  been  accomplished  close  be- 
fore the  eyes  of  Orpheus,  and  this  new  horror  had  cast  the  former 
one  so  far  into  the  shade,  tlisii  he  volunteered  aid  lo  the  surgeon,  and 
Jielped  to  place  the  unconscious  form  upon  tlie  nearest  sofa.  Then, 
he  again  hurried  to  the  door,  continuing  his  si  arch  after  his  parents. 

But  Olympius,  who  in  the  face  of  his  friend's  weakness  felt 


156  SERAPIS. 

anew  how  much  dependerl  in  these  hours  upon  his  manly  presence 
ot  mind,  detained  him,  and  with  sternness  denuiuded  a  clear  state- 
meut  of  wIkU  had  actually  occurred  upon  the  loof. 

The  youu.i;  singer  obeyed,  and  wliat  he  hail  to  communicate 
sounded  tlisquieting  enough.  A  ball  ot  fire  had  fallen  upon  the 
cupola  with  frightful  resonance,  and  had  combined  with  a  strebm 
of  flames  which  seemed  to  issue  from  the  ground.  Then  had  the 
sky  again  opened,  with  blinding  glare,  and  at  the  same  lime 
Orpheus'  own  eyes  had  beheld  a  huge  monster,  maybe  a  moving 
fountain,  that  slowly  and  with  terrific  din  had  approached  tlie  rear 
of  the  sanctuary.  Not  rain,  but  streams— jier feet  torrents  of  water 
had  rushed  down  ui)on  him  and  his  comrades. 

"  Neptune,"  cried  Orpheus,  "leads  on  the  floods  of  the  ocean 
against  the  temple,  and  the  neighing  of  his  four  chariot  horses  I 
have  heard — it  could  not  have  been  any  illusion — 1  have  heard  with 
my  own  ears!" 

"  The  neighing  of  Neptune's  horses!  The  emperor's  horses  you 
mean!" 

And  now  with  the  agility  of  a  young  man  he  flew  to  the  window, 
pulled  bacli  the  curtain,  and  looked  into  the  open  air  toward  the 
east. 

The  storm  had  passed  away  as  suddenly  as  it  had  appeared.  Day 
was  dawning. 

Over  Aurora's  crimson  robe  like  a  full  overskirt  hung  heavy 
folds  ot  giay  and  black  cloud,  while  the  edges  were  bordered  by 
bands  of  glittering  gold.  Far  lo  the  north  gleamed  occasionally  pale 
lightning^  and  the  thumier  of  the  retreating  storm  was  hardly  audi- 
ble any  longer;  but  the  studs,  the  neighing  of  which  had  so  terrified 
Orpheus  and  the  guards,  had  come  nearer  to  the  sanctuary,  and 
stopped  close  beneath  the  southern  wall  ot  the  temple,  where  there 
were  neither  doors  nor  any  other  mode  of  access. 

What  did  the  Imperialists  want  at  this  strong,  inaccessible  place? 
Yet  there  was -no  time  now  for  long  reflections,  and  like  a  warning 
now  thundered  through  the  temple  that  gcng  which  was  meant  to 
collect  all  the  defenders  ot  the  Serapeum  toirether. 
.But  Olympius  needed  no  more  encouragemeni. 

With  the  fiery  passion  of  a  fanatical  partisan  leader,  of  the 
champion  lor  a  great,  sorely  imperiled  cause,  he  turned  to  bis  guests 
and  Oade  them  remember  their  manhood,  and  with  him  resist  even 
unto  death. 

In  this  brief,  pithy  call  to  arms  his  voice  sounded  hoarse  from 
excitement,  and  it  had  powerful  effect,  for  the  very  reason  that  the 
celebrated  orator  had  forborne  to  influence  the  highly  cultured  audi- 
ence around  him  by  modulation  of  the  voice,  and  studied  choice  of 
diction. 

Infected  with  the  warmth  of  the  enthusiastic  old  man,  they 
collected  all  their  energies  and  hurried  after  him  to  the  apartment 
^\here  arms  stood  r-eady  for  them. 

A  coat  of  mail  on  the  l)rfast  ami  a  sword  to  brandish  in  his  hand 
made  a  soldier  out  of  each  of  these  sages  and  powerfully  re-enforced 
the  courage  ot  all.  Among  these  heroes  but  little  was  said  about 
"  the  great  word."     The  time  for  grave  action  was  upon  them. 

Olympius    had    re(iuesled    Ihe    surgeon  Apuleius  to   have   the 


SERAPIS.  157 

poisoned  merchant  conveyed  to  his  own  private  chamber  by  the 
hypostyle,  seeiug  that  so  far  no  antidote  had  taken  effect.  Temple- 
ser  Pants  bore  Porphyrins  down  a  side  staircase,  while  the  high-priest 
led  his  panoplied  friends  quickly  and  silently  down  the  main  stairs 
into  the  great  halls. 

There  the  company  armed  for  the  fray  encountered  surprises  and 
disillusions  more  appalling  than  they  could  have  imagined.  Olym- 
pms  himself  felt  utterly  at  a  loss  in  the  beginning;  for  out  of  his 
genial  companions  had  been  made  in  one  night  poltroons  and  muti- 
neers, wliile  within  the  precincts  of  this  holy  temple  were  all  the 
tokens  of  a  lost  batile. 

Implements  broken  and  cast  aside,  battered  instruments,  furniture 
torn  and  wetted  through  and  through,  flowers  and  garlunds 
withered  ami  stripped  oi  their  leaves,  were  lying  around  on  all 
sides.  Red  wine  like  pools  of  human  gore  swam  over  the  cracked 
beauties  of  the  mosaic  floor;  here  and  there,  at  the  foot  of  some 
column,  lay  the  bodyoi  a  man— whether  dead  or  in  a  fit  of  drunken 
stupor,  who  slioulil  say?— and  the  disagreeable  exhalations  from  a 
hundred  smoking  lamp- wicks  offended  the  senses,  for  in  this  con- 
fusion they  might  burn  or  go  out  as  it  happened. 

And  what  a  lamentable  spectacle  was  that  presented  by  men  and 
women  who  had  been  up  all  night,  and  were  now  sobered  and 
miserable! 

The  wretched  sensation  of  having  insulted  God  and  challenged 
his  wrath  was  stirring  in  every  soul.  A  speedy  end  would  have 
been  welcome  to  many  a  one,  and  a  richly  endowed  disciple  of 
Ilelladius  had  actually  adventured  that  plunge  from  being  into  not 
being,  which,  according  to  his  conviction;  began  beyond  the  grave, 
by  striking  his  head  asraiust  the  hard  marble,  and  there  he  lay  witli 
fractured  skull  at  the  foot  of  a  column. 

With  confused  brain,  aching  head,  and  agonized  heart,  had  these 
unfortunates  come  to  curse  the  present,  and  wnoever  of  them  dared 
to  think  of  the  future,  it  seemed  like  a  horrible  abyss  to  which  the 
flying  hours  were  driving  them  imperceptibly  and  yet  with  irresisti- 
ble force. 

And  time  moved  on  and  on;  everybody  saw.  everybody  felt  it: 
the  night  had  vanished  and  day  l)egan  to  dawn;  the  tempest  had  re- 
treated, but  instead  of  the  implacable  power  of  nature  now  advanced 
a  new  horror  in  the  shape  of  the  no  less  inexorable  power  of  the 
emperor's  military. 

In  a  struggle  between  man  and  the  gods  tliere  was  only  one  pos- 
sible issue  f"o"r  him,  viz.,  defeat.  In  the  contest  between  man  and 
man,  it  was  allowable,  although  the  issue  might  not  be  victorious, 
to  think  of  escape. 

The  one  armed  veteran  Meranon,  during  those  orgies  within  the 
temple,  had  kept  watch  on  the  roof  and  had  made  preparations  to 
hold  tlie  assaulting  enemy  at  bay,  until  the  storm  '  e  out  and 
attacked  Ins  men  with  thunder  and  lightning.  Then  hal  the  majority 
of  the  garrison  on  the  root  taken  refuge  in  the  lower  rooms  of  the 
temple.  Only  the  old  captain  had  stuck  to  his  post  despite  hurri- 
cane anil  water-spout. 

With  the  one  arm  left  to  him,  he  had  clung  to  a  statue  on  the 
parapet  of  the  roof,  in  order  not  to  be  swept  and  washed  away. 


158  SERA  PIS. 

From  thence  he  had  issued  orders,  but  the  roaring  of  the  hurricane 
had  drowned  his  voice,  and  of  the  tew  left  behind  none  had  heard 
his  words  of  coniniaud. 

The  neighing  of  horses,  and  the  walliing  mountain  which  had  put 
Orpheus  lo  flight,  had  not  escaped  his  observation  either.  "What 
aproaciied  was" Roman  enginery  tor  siege-laying,  and  faithful  as 
WHB  the  veteran  to  the  cause,  the  leadership  of  wliich  he  had  iimler- 
taken,  yet  an  emotion  resembling  joy  thrilled  his  warlike  old  soul 
when  he  recognized  that  true  and  genuine  soldiers  still  followed  the 
Imperial  ensigns,  under  which  he"  had  shed  his  heart's  blood  more 
than  once. 

His  old  brothers  in  arms  had  not  forgotten  how  to  defy  the  ele- 
ments, and  their  general  had  been  well  advised  when  he  diiected  the 
finst  attack  to  be  made  on  apparently  the  strongest  part  of  the  tem- 
ple. 

It  was  plain  that  he  had  here  to  do  with  a  real  warrior,  and  with 
a  grim  curse  and  uiocking  smile  he  thought  upon  the  heterogene- 
ous rabble  over  which  he  had  command. 

Yesterday  he  had  sought  to  moderate  Olympius'  vaulting  hopes, 
and  said  to  him:  "Not  by  enthusiasm,  but  the  art  ot  war  one 
beats  his  enemy!" 

Now  he  had  to  cope  with  an  adversary  who  was  his  match;  and 
how  he  was  to  be  supported  by  the  death-despising  enthusiasm  ot 
youth,  which  he  had  undertaken  to  lead,  and  from  which,  in  secret, 
he  still  expected  great  things,  he  was  only  to  learn  too  soon. 

The  point  was  to  mal^e  impassable  thai  breach  in  the  rear  wall  of 
the  sanctuary  until  the  arrival  ot  the  expected  Libyan  succors,  and 
also  to  defend  the  front  ot  the  sanctuary  from  the  roof.  For  every 
one  wlio  could  lift  a  stone  and  brandish  a  sword  there  was  use  in 
this  struirgle.  and  when  he  counted  over  the  number  of  his  men  he 
thought  that  the  sanctuary  might  hold  out  successfully  for  a  long 
while.  But  his  reckoning  was  false;  for  he  did  not  know  what  a 
power  of  attraction  the  races  exercised  over  bis  "  inspired  youth," 
and  what  an  alteration  had  come  over  their  mood. 

As  soon  as  the  storm  had  lulled  suflicieutly  for  him  to  withdraw 
his  hand  from  its  support,  he  called  together  the  remnant  left  be- 
hind, and  had  the  brass  gong  beaten  whicli  was  to  summon  the  com- 
batants to  tlie  roof;  audits  nietallic  clangor  rang  through  the  gloom 
with  mighty  vibrations.  A  deaf  man  must  have  heard  it  in  the 
deepest  cellar  ot  the  sanctuaty,  and  nevertheless  minute  succeeded 
minute,  and  three  quarters  of  an  hour  had  elapsed  and  not  one  mim 
had  made  his  appearance  on  the  roof. 

The  impatience  of  tlie  old  luf.n  changed  to  astonishment,  astonish- 
ment to  sullen  rage.  The  messengers  whom  he  had  dispatched 
returned  no  more,  and  the  protect iiig  root  of  the  Romans  pressed 
up  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  .soulliern  Vail  of  the  temple,  clTectuallv 
shielding  their  pioneers  from  the  .scattering  shower  of  stones,  witli 
wliich  at  his  command  they  should  have  been  molested  by  his  men. 

The  enemy  purposed  to  find  a  secure  resting-place  for  their  bat- 
leriug-machine,  whose  brazen  ram'shead  was  to  lay  bare  a  breach 
in  the  temple  wall.  Every  second  ot  delay  on  the  side  of  the 
defenders  abetted  powerfully  the  aim  ot    the   foe,     A  hundred, 


SERAPIg.  159 

iwo  hundred  hands  more  on  the  roof,  and  his  undertaking  would 
have  become  tutile! 

Disappointment  and  a  bitter  feeling  of  his  own  impotence  forced 
tears  of  rage  into  the  old  man's  eyes,  and  when  at  last  a  messenger 
came  back  and  reported  that  the  men  and  women  below  were  going 
on  like  distracted  people,  and  tiiat,  to  a  niixn,  all  refused  to  mount 
to  the  roof,  he  uttered  a  fierce  oath,  and  dashed  down-stairs. 

Furiously  he  rushed  among  the  wailing  throng,  and  when  he  saw 
with  his  own  eyes  wiiat  this  fatal  night  had  made  of  his  warriors, 
lie  thundered  against  thtm  imperiously,  in  a  few  clear  words  repre- 
sented to  them  what  was  at  slake,  ordered  witliout  being  obeytd, 
yelled  at  tlie  most  retraetoiy,  pushed  individuals  angrily  before  him, 
and  when  he  noticed  that  many,  with  females  at  their  sides,  were 
fleeing  toward  the  gate  leading  into  the  secret  passge,  he  opposed 
himself  to  their  progress,  sword  in  hand,  and  threatened  to  hew 
down  every  one  who  should  attempt  to  make  his  escape. 

During  this  proceeding  Olynipius  with  his  followers  had  entered 
the  great  hall,  and  when  at  the  place  where  was  the  loudest  up- 
loar,  he  saw  the  general  struggling  with  mutinous  fugitives,  who 
sousht  to  wrest  his  sword  from  him,  he  hurried  to  his  aid,  with  his 
guests,  and  supported  by  them,  held  back  the  hundreds  forcing 
tlieir  way  to  the  door  of  exit. 

It  grieved  the  old  man  to  use  the  arms  which  he  and  his  had 
grasped  in  pious  exaltation  of  spirit  against  his  own  refractory  fel- 
lows, but  it  had  to  be  done,  and  while  his  men,  to  whom  Karuis 
and  Orpheus  had  also  joined  themselves  with  their  lances  and 
shields,  held  back  the  pushing  mob  from  the  subterranean  rooms, 
he  took  counsel  with  the  old  men  skilled  in  war,  and  they  quickly 
came  to  the  determination  to  drive  the  women  forth  from  the 
temple,  and  to  divide  the  men  into  two  companies,  ot  which  one 
should  be  sent  up  to  the  roof,  and  the  other  to  the  rear  wall  of  the 
temple,  where  the  Roman  battering-ram  must  soon  begin  to  play. 

Olympius  courageously  threw  himself  between  his  followers  and 
tlie  men  and  wonien  bent  upon  flight,  exhorting  them  with  power- 
ful thundering  appeals  to  remember  their  duty. 

Quietly- and  respectfully  they  listened  to  him,  but  when  he  an- 
nounced the  resolve  to  exclude  women  from  the  temple  these  latter 
raised  a  loud  outcry.  Many  clung  to  their  lovers,  while  others 
instigated  the  men  to  flee  in  detiance  of  or<lers. 

Several  women,  the  beautiful  Glycera  al  their  head,  who  had  a 
few  hours  ago,  as  Aphrodite,  smiled  upon  her  w-orshipers  in  full 
assurance  of  victory,  now  did  their  best  to  escape  from  this  scene 
of  horror,  and  set  forth  with  all  speed  to  seek  admittance  to  the 
underground  passMue.  They  remembered  that  they  did  not  lack 
for  admirers  in  the  city  either. 

But  they  did  not  get  far,  for  a  temple-servant  rushed  to  meet 
them  with  advice  to  turn  back,  for  the  Imperialists  had  discovered 
the  entrance  to  the  canal,  and  held  possession  of  the  lumber-yard. 

Now  they  followed  the  watchman  with  loud  lamentations,  and 
hardly  had  they  set  fool  upon  the  great  hall  aaam  before  a  new 
shock  was  given  them,  for  the  brazen  battering-ram  with  its  iron 
mouth  bounded  against  the  rear  wall  of  the  temple  for  the  first  time. 

The  Imperialists  held  possession  of  the  secret  passage,  ana  had 


160  SERAPIS. 

begun  the  assault.     That  was  much,  but  all  was  not  yet  lost,  and 
in  this  momentous  hour  Olympius  and  Memnon  proved  what  they 

IV  CIO. 

Tlie  tirst  ordered  Ihe  great  portcullis  to  be  lowcied  and  the  bridges 
to  l)e  brolu-n  oil  liiat  spunued  the  abyss  in  those  sul)terranean 
regions  destined  for  the  ceiebralion  ot  the  mysteries,  and  this  task 
could  be  perloimed  in  good  time,  tor  the  troops  liad  not  yet  vent- 
ured to  penetrate  into  lliat  mysterious  passage,  wliere  snares  and 
ambushes  might  well  be  expected,  but  Memnon  liurried  to  the  spot, 
where  the  ram  was  making  its  second  thrust,  and  shouted  to  the 
multitude:  "  Whoever  is  noi  a  wretched  coward  let  him  tollow!" 

Then  the  triends  ot  Olympius  trooped  about  him,  Karnis  and 
Orpheus  of  course  being  ot  the  number,  and  he  ordered  everything 
that  was  movable  in  Ihe  sacred  halls  to  be  heaped  up  as  a  wall  ot 
protection  before  the  impeiiled  spot,  and  to  spare  neither  the  not:)lest 
and  holiest  images,  nor  the  marble  and  brass  columns  and  altars  of 
sacrifice. 

If  a  breach  should  be  efftcted  from  behind  this  wall  it  was  meant 
to  stay  the  further  advance  ot  the  enemy  by  launching  arrows  and 
darts,  of  which  they  had  plenty. 

The  old  man  was  pleased  that  at  all  events  the  way  ot  deserters 
was  blocked  up,  and  as  soon  as  he  saw  statues  torn  down  from  their 
pedestals,  altars  dragged  from  consecrated  spots,  where  they  had 
stood  for  halt  a  century,  benches  and  alabaster  vases  overturned 
together,  and  the  stone  wall  of  defense  thus  growing,  he  drew  off  a 
small  detachment  tor  work  upon  the  roof. 

There  was  no  more  running  away,  and  many  a  one,  who,  a  short 
while  before,  had  hoped  to  flee,  now  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  temple 
with  quaking  knees,  because  he  fancied  himself  safer  from  tlie 
enemy  there  than  at  the  breach. 

Olympius  shared  out  weapons,  went  encouragingly  from  one  to 
the  otlier,  and  in  so  doing  came  upon  Gorj^o,  who  still  tarried  with 
the  widow  of  Asclepiodor  beneath  the  statue  of  justice. 

He  informed  lier  that  her  father  haa  been  taken  sick,  and  had  her 
directed  to  his  private  room  that  she  might  aid  the  physician  in 
taking  care  of  him. 

The  mourning  matron  was  not  to  be  induced  to  forsake  her  place. 
She  longed  for  the  end,  and  knew  that  it  could  not  be  far  oft.  ^Vith 
ear  intent  she  listened  to  the  blows  of  the  biillering-ram.  Each  one 
seemed  to  her  a  thrust  at  tbe  joints  which  held  the  universe  to- 
gether. One  more,  and  then  another,  when  surely  the  rotten  walls 
wou'd  iiive  way,  and  the  same  ffulf  which  had  swallowed  up  her 
son,  anil  long  years  ago  her  husband,  would  open  to  receive  her 
and  her  sorrow.  Shivering,  she  drew  her  mantle  over  her  face  in 
order  to  hide  from  the  sunshine,  which  bfgan  to  stream  through  the 
windows.  The  light  pained  her.  She  had  hoped  that  there  would 
be  no  more  day. 

The  women,  and  with  them  a  few  dastards,  had  withdrawn  to  the 
lotunda,  and  soon  ribald  words  and  peals  ot  laughter  made  the 
place  to  lesound. 

From  the  roof,  meanwhile,  blocks  of  stone  and  statues  were  being 
hurled  at  the  assailants. 

It  vexed  tliose  who  toiled  in  the  lower  balls  to  see  others  idle,  so 


SEKAPIS.  IGl 

lliat  the  refractory,  too,  were  compelled  to  bestir  themselves,  and 
the  wall  destined  to  defend  the  inner  wall  of  the  temple  grew  apace. 
No  wall  before  had  ever  been  constructed  of  nobler  materials, 
each  one  was  a  choice  work  of  itrt,  had  been  regardeil  as  sacred  tor 
a  hundred  j^ears,  or  in  beautiful  script  preserved  the  record  of 
worthy  deeds.  This  wall  should  protect  the  highest  of  the  gods, 
and  Karnis,  with  his  son  and  wife,  was  among  Uie  defenders  who 
speedily  mounted  it. 

CHAPTER  XXin. 

GoRGO  sat  at  the  head  of  the  couch  where  lay  her  apparently 
lifeless  father.  She  looked  lovingly  upon  his  pale,  waxen  feature-s, 
and  watched  for  the  exhalations  of  breath,  which  stirred  his  uosirlls, 
now  slightly,  then  painfully  and  convulsively. 

His  cV:)ld,  moist  right  liand  was  clasped  in  hers,  and  site  stroked 
it,  and  whenever  the  lashes  over  his  closed  eyes  quivered  would 
press  it  to  her  lips  with  child-like  tenderness. 

Olympius'  chamber  h^y  at  the  side  of  the  hypostyle,  in  the  rear  of 
the  lofty  colonnade,  to  the  right,  and  obliquely  oppo.site  to  the  great 
veiled  statue  of  Serapis. 

The  noise  made  in  building  the  wall  of  defense,  and  the  crash  of 
the  blows  from  the  battering-ram  were  in  close  proximity  to  this 
apartment,  and  whenever  the  ram's  head  butted  against  the  wall 
the  patient  started,  and  an  expression  of  keen  pain  flitted  across  his 
countenance. 

Truly  was  Gorgo  grieved  to  behold  her  lather's  suffering,  truly 
she  told  herself  the  sanctuary  must  soon  fall  into  the  hands  of  the 
Christians,  but  she  had  a  grateful  sense  of  security  and  privac}' 
here  in  her  friend  s  half-darkened,  comfortable  room,  apart  from 
those  wretches  on  whom  she  thought  with  horror  and  aversion. 

Her  l)()dy  was,  indeed,  greatly  exhaualed  bj^  her  sleepless  night, 
but  the  deep  exercise  of  mind  t'hiough  which  she  had  i)assed  were 
still  actively  at  work  within,  so  that  her  spirit  could  not  have  found 
repose  though  she  had  been  resting  upon  the  soft  couch  in  her 
own  quiet  chamber  at  home.  Restlessly  her  thoughts  worked  on, 
and  here  she  found  time  to  think  over  her  own  experiences  in  these 
last  hours,  and  what  had  befallen  her  grandmother  and  falher. 

So  far  she  had  exchano:ed  only  a  few  words  with  the  surgeon, 
who  was  devoting  him.self  unweariedl}  to  the  restoralion  of  the  sick 
man,  and  had  assured  her  that  he  hoped  sotm  to  restore  him  to  con- 


Now  she  gave  him  a  questioning  glance,  and  said  gravely,  and 
sadly:  "  \ou  spoke  of  antidotes,  Apuleius.  My  father  wanted  lo 
evade  ruin  and  so  sought  to  take  his  own  lite.  This  is  so,  is  it 
not?" 

The  physician  measured  he*  with  a  scrutinizing  glance,  and  after 
he  had  assented  to  her  quesiion.  and  conununieated  lo  her  the  cir- 
cumstances nndei  which  the  fatal  deetl  was  done,  he  continued 
moodily,  in  a  subdued  voice: 

"1  he  terrible  storm  deprived  him  of  composure,  as  it  did  me, 
yes,  all  of  us,  and  yet  we  have  only  witnessed  the  prelude  to  the 
great  tragedy,  wheiein  shall  be  enacted  the  overthrow  of  the  world 
6 


1G2  SERA  PIS. 

and  mankind.  It  draws  near;  we  hear  Its  approach.  There  the 
sloncs  are  crashing!  The  brass  battering-ram  of  the  Christiana  is 
opening  a  way  for  itself  through." 

Tlie  last  words  of  the  physician  were  portentous,  and  had  in 
tiiom  the  ring  of  despair,  accompanied  as  they  were  by  the  fall  of 
heavy  stones,  that  this  time  had  been  dislodged  Irora  the  joints  of 
the  wall  bv  tlie  battering-ram.  His  prophetic  speech  seemed  on  the 
point  of  iulfillmerit. 

Gorgo  turned  pale:  yet  what  frightened  her  was  not  the  doctor's 
prediction,  but  the  trembling  of  the  walls  about  her. 

Bui  the  Serapeum  had  been  founded  for  eternity,  and  altliouiili 
the  ram  might  batier  down  one  wall  it  did  not  bring  the  building  to 
totter,  mucii  less  fall. 

Louder  and  louder  now  arose  the  uproar  of  the  battle  on  the  out- 
side, and  overtaken  by  a  fresh  anxiety  the  physician  planted  him 
self  at  the  door  in  the  attitude  of  a  listener. 

Gorgo  observed  tliat  his  hands  trembled.  He,  the  man,  was 
afraid,  while  she  felt  no  other  solicitude  save  about  her  suHering 
father.  The  broach  brought  Constantine  into  the  temple,  and 
where  he  commanded  she  was  safe.  In  the  destruction  of  the 
world  she  believed  no  longer. 

When  the  physician  turned  around  again  and  noted  how  quietly 
and  composedly  she  wiped  the  perspiration  from  the  sick  man's 
brow,  he  said  in  hollow  tones,  "  What  avails  it  for  the  ostrich  to 
hide  her  eyes?  They  are  wrestling  there  for  the  decision.  Let  us 
make  ready  for  extremities.  It  they  daie  to  lay  audacious  hands 
upon  that  god— and  dare  it  they  will — then  all  is  lost  both  to  con- 
queror and  conquered." 

Hereupon  Gorgo  shook  her  head,  and  exclaimed,  with  eager  con- 
fidence: "  No,  no,  Apuleius;  for.  if  Serapis  is  the  one  whom  we 
take  him  to  be,  why  does  he  suffer  his  enemies  to  annihilate  his 
image  and  his  sanctuary?  Why,  then,  does  he  not  infuse  coinage 
into  ihc  hearts  of  his  faithful  ones  at  this  trying  hour?  I  have  seen 
the  boys  and  women  who  herded  here  to  do  battle  for  him. 
Cowards  are  they  and  bad  women;  and  it  the  master  is  like  his 
servant,  then  will  lie  be  served  right  if  he  does  fal-1,  and  every 
lament  over  him  were  a  crmie. " 

"Speaks  Porphyrins'  daughter  thusi"  retorted  the  physician, 
with  cutting  reproach. 

'•  Yes,  Apuleius,  yes!  Thus  must  1  speak  after  what  1  liave 
lived  through,  seen,  and  experienced  during  tne  past  niglit. 
fcjhametul,  vile,  horrid  has  it  been;  yes,  the  mere  thought  ot-  being 
CDunled  among  those  belonging  to  such  a  deirenerate  .set  is  enounii 
to  infmiate  me.  Whoever  names  me  in  the  same  breath  insults  me! 
A  god  served  as  tins  one  is  shall  not  be  my  god;  and  you.  you  who 
have  learned  to  think,  you  wise  scholars,  how  can  you  "oelieve  that 
tlie  (yhrisiian's  God,  after  having  conquered  and  paialyzed  yours, 
will  suffer  i^erapis  to  anniuilate  his  world,  and  the  creatures  with 
whom  fie  has  inliabiled  it?" 

Ilerc!  the  i)hvsiciai)  started  up  and  asked  her  sternly  and  harshly. 

"  Do  you  belong  to  the  (Mirislians?" 

Gorgo  (lid  not  answer  him  at  once,  and  only  blushed  deeply  Bui 
Apuleius  would  not  be  pacilied,  antl  again  asked: 


SKUA  PIS.  163 

"  Art!  you,  indeed,  then  a  Christian?" 

Then  she  ioolced  him  tiili  in  the  face,  and  firmly  answered: 

"  No,  but  I  would  Hive  to  beeonu;  one!" 

Tlie  physician  shrugj^ed  liis  shoulders,  ana  turned  away;  but 
Gorco  drew  a  deep  breath  ot  relief,  and  il  seemed  to  her  as  if  this 
ansAti'  had  lifted  a  heavy  burden  from  lier  soul.  She  hersell  haidly 
knew  how  that  bold  enfranchising  speech  liad  passed  her  lips,  but 
she  felt  thai  it  had  been  the  correct  answer  to  the  physiciau  s  quis- 
liou. 

Henceforth  there  was  no  further  conversation  between  the  two, 
and  il,  was  a  relief  to  her  to  be  allowed  to  preserve  silence;  for  I  hat 
sp  ech  had  unlocked  to  her  a  new  world  ot  thoughts  and  feelings. 

Henceforth  her  beloved  was  no  longer  an  adversaiy,  and  wlien 
the  noise  ot  the  battle  at  the  breach  touched  her  ear  she  duist  tiiink 
joyfully  of  him  and  his  victorious  arms. 

Slie  felt  that  his  cause  was  the  purer,  nobler,  worthier,  and  she 
rejoiced  in  that  love  of  which  he  had  said  that  it  should  support 
:uid  protect  their  future  common  life  like  a  strong  tower  and  a  safe 
and  friendly  covert. 

Cou) paled  with  that  love,  all  that  siic  used  to  deem  the  indispen- 
sable atlornment  of  life  appeared  to  her  vain  and  jejune,  and  as  she 
looked  upon  her  father's  face,  and  pictured  to  herself  how  he  had 
lived  and  how  much  he  had  suflered,  she  referred  to  him  the 
words  ot  Paid,  that  Constantine  had  addressed  to  her  upon  his  le- 
t urn  home,  and  her  heart  overflowed  with  love  for  the  unhappy 
man. 

The  tieep  seams  of  suffering  about  the  mouth  and  eyes  of  her 
father,  she  well  knew  how  to  account  for;  lor  Porphyrins  had 
made  no  secret  ot  the  pain  felt  by  him  every  time  that  he  saw  him- 
self forced  lo  ci.uless  a  faith  that  in  his  heart  he  abjured. 

This  great  untruth,  this  acting  ot  a  double  part,  this  attempt  to  go 
in  two  directions,  had  poisoned  e.vistence  for  this  veraciously  dis- 
posed man,  and  Gorgo  knew  for  whose  sake,  and  through  what 
motives  he  had  undergone  this  misery,  this  martyrdom  o'^f  spirit. 
He  lay  stretched  there  as  a  warning  for  her,  and  his  suffering  lace 
admonished  her  lo  make  a  whole-liearted  offering  of  heiself  lo  the 
cause  that  she  was  about  to  espouse.  She  would  proft  ss  Christian- 
ity out  of  love,  yes!  For  at  this  hour  she  saw  in  the  faith  which 
was  soon  to  be  hers,  and  which  Constantine  had  often  so  enthusias- 
tically descril)ed,  one  thinsr  above  all,  viz.,  eternal  love. 

So  peaceful,  so  well  equipped  for  everything  good  and  lovely, 
she  had  never  before  felt,  and  yet  without  the  battle  grew  hmder 
and  louder,  the  imperial  trumpet  already  mingling  in  the  battle-cry 
of  the  heathen.  Nearer  and  nearer  to  her  drew  the  oncoming  tide 
of  conflict. 

'Ihe  batteiing-rain  had  already  made  a  wide  opening  in  the  icar 
wall  ot  the  temple,  into  which  the  heavy-armed  soldiers  of  the 
twenty-second  leuion  were  pressing,  holding  their  shields  before 
them:  but  many  a  veteran  had  paid  for  his  boldness  with  his  lite, 
for  a  shower  of  spears  and  arrows  had  rained  upon  them  from  the 
liastily  reared  bulwark.  But  their  great  shields  had  caught  many 
a  missile;  many  an  arrow,  too,  had  bounded  back  harmlessly  from 
brass  helmets  and  sleel  coats  of  mail,  antl  those  who  were  spared 


104  SERA  PIS. 

pressed  forward;  and  over  the  liodios  of  the  fallen  a  conlinually 
reneweci  stream  ot  assuilauts  found  llieir  way  into  the  temple 

Well  i)rotecled  by  complele  suits  of  armor,  veteran  soldiers  ap- 
proached the  bulwark  on  their  knees,  i\hile  others  sent  SDcais  and 
arrows  aj^uinst  the  garrisun  over  their  heads.  A  few  wounded  heathens 
sunk  smitten  to  the  floor,  and  the  gushinj:  streams  of  their  led  gore 
worked  powerfully  upon  their  comrades.  Rag«  stirred  in  the  breast  ot 
even  the  most  liniid,  fear  vanished  fjetore  desire  to  avenge  tiie  mur- 
der of  tiieir  comrades,  so  tliat  out  of  cowards  grew  brave  men, 
while  scholars  and  artists  ihirsted  tor  blood.  Peaceful  bookworms 
were  suddenly  aglow  with  pa'riotism,  and  smitten  tvitii  the  grand 
passion  of  slaughtwing  and  exterminating  the  foe,  stood  shoulder 
to  shoulder,  and  recklessly  staked  their  lives. 

I'iarnis,  tiiat  old,  genial  friend  of  the  Muses,  stood  at  the  very 
top  of  the  bulwark,  with  his  .'•on  at  his  side,  roaring  out  detached 
sentences  from  a  war-sonc  of  Tyrttcus,  as  lie  sent  lance  after  lanee 
against  the  enemy.  At  the  same  tune  sweat  ran  in  streams  from 
his  bald  forehead,'  and  his  eje  gleamed  with  warlike  ardor. 

At  his  side  Orplieus  shot"  arrow  iitter  arrow  from  a  tremendous 
bow.  The  abundant  tresses  ot  his  Apollo-like  head  were  thittering 
loosely,  while  his  clieeks  glowed  as  with  living  tire. 

When  lie  struck  one  of  the  Romans  tlie  old  man  shouted  to  him: 
"  litavo,  my  sou!"  and  then  woulii  draw  iiimselt  up  and  liuri  his 
lance,  witli  a  line  of  he.\amet(  r,  or  anapest  verse  upon  his  lips. 

Hall  hidden  by  an  altar,  which  happened  to  lie  on  top  ot  the  hur- 
riedly built  wall  ot  defense.  Dame  Herse  cowered  and  handed  the 
men  the  weapons  ot  which  they  stood  in  need.  Her  gown  was  torn 
and  bloody,  her  gray  hair  had  freed  itself  from  the  crescent  and 
ribbons  which  had  held  it  up,  and  fell  wildly  over  her  face.  The 
careful  housewife  was  transformed  into  a  Meiiara,  and  slirieked  to 
tlie  men:  "  Kill  the  dogs!  Stand  firm!  Spare  not  one  Christian!" 

Rut  the  men  stood  in  no  need  of  these  exhortations.  The  hot  en- 
thusiasm which  animated  them  had  coupled  itself  to  a  fierce  thirst 
alter  battle  and  redoubled  their  strength, 

Orpheus'  arrow  had  just  transfixed  a  bold  centurion  who  had 
already  set  foot  upon  the  lowest  step,  pieunng  his  neck  above  his 
coat  ot  mail,  when  Ivarnis  let  fall  the  liince  tliaf  he  held  uplifted 
ready  to  hurl,  and  Bunk  williout  a  word.  A  Roman  dart  had  struck 
him,  and  there  he  lay,  with  the  spear  in  his  breast,  like  a  cliff  in  the 
surf,  upon  which  a  little  tree  has  taken  root  hesifle  a  red  spring, 
bubbling  with  warm  water. 

Orpheus  saw  the  out-gush  ot  his  father's  blood,  and  threvv  himself 
on  his  knees  at  his  side;  but  tlie  old  man  pointed  to  the  bow  which 
his  son  had  Hung  aside,  and  murmured  to  him  eagerly:  "Leave 
me!  What  matters  it  about  meV  P'or  the  Gods!  Do  you  hear? 
F<)r  the  G-^ds  we  are  lighting  liei-e!     On!  Aim  well!  On!" 

But  the  son  would  not  be  i-e|)ulsed  by  tiie  dying  man,  and  as  lie  saw 
liow  deeply  the  spear  liad  jienelraled  into  the  breast  ot  the  old  man, 
hr.  sobbed  aloud  and  threvv  up  his  arms  with  a  passionate  cry  ot 
griet. 

.lust  then  an  arrow  struck  him.  too.  in  the  shoulder,  another 
pierced  his  neck,  and  he  fell  ga.spinir  foi  breath. 

Karuis  saw  him  lall,  and  witli  a  mighty  effort  sought  to  rise  and 


SERAPIS.  165 

jio  to  his  as-sistance,  but  it  was  all  in  vain,  and  tlieu  bo  clincbed  his 
Bst  iu  iinpoteut  rage,  and  pronounced  Elcclra's  curse  upou  ber  ene- 
mies as  loud  as  be  could,  half  speaking,  bait  singing: 

"  What  I  ask,  do  not  spurn  1 
From  these  murderers  turn 
Into  woe,  their  dehght! 
Into  darkness  then-  sight  1" 

But  tbose  beavy-arnied  soldiers  did  not  hear  or  heed  the  old  man's 
curse,  as  tbey  rushed  impetuously  forward  through  the  breach  in  the 
wall.  Sense  failed  bim  to  return  for  the  first  time  wbcn  Herse  (who 
liad  first  lifted  up  ber  sou  and  leaned  bim  against  a  pedestal)  came 
up  to  bim,  tying  bis  bandkercbief  around  (be  shaft  of  the  lance,  ami 
endeavoring  to  stancb  the  blood  tbat  was  flowing  in  a  ceaseless 
stream,  and  moistening  bis  brow  witb  wine. 

When  be  felt  ber  warm  tears  upon  bis  cheeks,  and  looked  into 
tbose  kind  eyes  overflowmg  witb  pity  and  keen  agony  of  woe,  bis 
iieart  melted  within  bim.  Tbe  best  hours  whicli  they  bad  enjoyed 
together  during  their  long  married  lite  passed  iu  review  before  liim, 
and  be  looked  tenderly  and  gratefully  up  at  her,  feetily  stretcbing 
out  bis  band  to  ber.  The  matron  arew  it  tearfully  to  ber  lips,  but 
lie  smiled  and  kept  nodding  at  ber,  while  be  soltly  repeated  to  ber 
over  and  over  again  Lucian's:  "  Be  comforted,  soon  wilt  tbou  go 
too!" 

•'  Yes,  yes,  yes!  Soon  sball  1  go  too.  Witbout  i'ou,  witboul  you 
both,  and  witbout  the  gods,  wbat  should  1  do  here?" 

So  saying,  she  turned  to  ber  son,  who,  witn  full  consciousness, 
had  followed  ever}'  movement  of  bis  parents  and  now  tried  to  speak. 
But  tbe  arrow  in  bis  throat  deprived  bim  of  breath,  and  to  talk 
pained  him  so  tbat  be  could  stammer  fortb  nothing  like  "  tatber  " 
and  "mother."  Yet  bis  poor  efiorts  at  utterance  expressed  vol- 
umes of  love  and  gratitude,  Karnis  and  llerse  understanding  all 
Ibiit  he  would  so  gladly  bave  said. 

Tears  closed  tbe  matron's  lips,  so  neitber  of  the  three  could  speak, 
t)ut  tbeir  beads  were  close  togetber,  and  tbey  exchanged  mute  signs 
of  love.  Thus  amid  tbe  alarm  of  trumpet-calls  and  commingling 
of  blood,  a  few  peaceful  moments  flew  by;  but  Herse's  bandker- 
cbief grew  redder  and  redder  from  ber  husband's  blood,  and  tbe  old 
man's  e}'es  began  slowly  to  revolve,  as  though  tbey  would  once 
more  take  in  a  complete  picture  of  this  woild,  m  which  he  had  ever 
sought  after  whatever  adorns  life.  Suddenly,  however,  they  stood 
still,  and  fastened  themselves  upon  tbe  bead  of  an  Apollo  that  bad 
been  cast  upon  tbe  heap  thrown  up  for  defense,  and  tbe  longer  the 
singer's  glance  remained  fixed  upon  tbe  beautiful  features  of  the 
god  tbe  brighter  and  clearer  was  the  splendor  in  which  it  shone. 

Once  more  he  found  strength  to  raise  his  feeble  band,  and  it 
pointed  to  the  sunny  head  of  that  immortal  youth:  but  hu  lips  mur- 
mured sottly:  "  He,  he — of  all  that  was  beautiful  in  life — Orpheus, 
Herse — we  have  to  thank  bim  for  tbe  best.  Our  end  is  also  to  be 
bis.  Tbose,  those  peoiile  there,  are  conquering  Ihee  and  us!  They 
dnam  of  a  Paradise  beyond  deuth;  but  where  thou  reignest,  Oh 
Phrebus,  there  is  bliss  already  upon  earth.  They  boast  "of  loving 
death  and  baling  lite,  and  now  that  tliey  conqu(!r,  music  has  re- 
ceived  ber  death-blow  too,  and,  if    it  goes  on,  tbey  will   destroy 


166  SERAPIS. 

iKixiity,  aixl  put  out  the  sun.  Dark,  dark,  dismal,  silent,  and  hate- 
tul,  now  is  llic  s^Hiul.  l)iit;iit  eiirtli.  'J'by  kingdom,  oh,  Phoebus, 
how  sunny  aiul  tull  of  delight!" 

Here  brealh  faihd  him;  yet  soon  he  rallied,  and  cried  out  wiih 
blowing  eyes:  "  We,  we  need  light,  and  the  tuneful  sound  ot  liule 
and  harp,  bright  flowers  around  careless  brows,  we — hold  me,  ITurse 
—  thou,  thou— hear  mo,  Phoebus  Apollo— Hail  to  thee!  Thanks  lo 
thee,  who  hast  taken  much  Irom  me,  and  given  me  everything! 
(Jome,  oh  come!  Orpheus,  Ilerse!     Do  you  see  him  come?"  ; 

Quickly  and  imperatively  he  pointed  willi  his  hand  into  the  dis- 
tance, and  bis  wide-open  eye  followed  the  direction  of  his  guiding 
linger.  With  a  mighty  exertion  ot  his  last  powers  he  raised  up  a 
liltlc;  but  the  next  "instant  be  had  already  fallen  back,  his  head 
sunk  slowly  upon  the  breast  of  bis  companion,  and  a  hot  stream  of 
blood  gushed  from  bis  quivering  lips. 

The  hilarious  tiiend  of  the  Muses  was  a  corpse,  and  the  next 
minute  bis  son,  too,  lost  consciousness. 

The  temple  shook  and  groaned  with  the  tumult  ot  battle  and  the 
blare  of  trumpets. 

The  conllicl  liad  changed  to  a  hand-to-hand  fight.  The  heavy- 
armed  soldiers  had  scaled  the  opposing  wall,  and  wrestled  with  the 
Ileal  hen,  breast  to  breast. 

Ilerse  saw  them  coming,  pulled  the  spear  from  her  husband's 
breast,  and  with  daring,  ravmg,  and  yet  impotent  thrusts,  attacked 
the  besiegers,  and  glowing  with  hatred  and  tierce  thirst  for  revenge, 
cursed  them  wildly  as  they  came. 

Then  slie  obtained  her  veliement  desire:  a  lance  thrust  her 
through,  and  lifeless  she  sunk  down  between  her  husband  and  sou. 
Her  death-struggle  did  not  last  long;  but  in  death  she  still  found 
strength  to  stretch  out  her  arras  in  order  to  touch  with  her  head 
botli  of  her  beloved  ones. 

The  battle  raged  above  the  fallen,  the  Imperialists  forcinsz  the 
defenders  of  the  bulwark  into  the  bails'  of  the  temple,  and  the  plan 
ot  attack,  wnich  hiul  been  devised  at  the  council  of  war  in  the 
palace  of  the  Comes,  wa';  punctiliously  carried  out  with  cool  cour- 
age and  iron  resolution. 

A  few  maniples  jnirsued  the  fugitives  to  the  great  entrance,  helped 
them  lo  burst  the  doors  open,  and  drove  them  across  the  landings 
and  stairs,  and  the  masses  of  stone  there  heaped  up,  into  the  aims 
of  the  trooiis  stationed  in  front  of  the  temple.  These  quickly  girded 
them  about  and  clutched  :it  them,  as  the  hunter  falls  to  ujiou  tiie 
game  that  has  been  scared  up  for  him  by  dogs  and  whippers-in. 

In  advance  ot  all  liurried  forward  tUe  abandoned  women  assem 
bled  in  the  rotunda,  who  received  the  soldiers  with  a  cry  ot  delight. 

Only  whoever  had  weapons  was  strucii  down.  Berenice,  the 
widow  ot  Asclepiodor,  bad  found  a  sword  on  the  ground,  and 
with  it  cu  open  her  veins.  Beneath  tiie  statue  of  Justice  was  found 
her  corpse,  sne  having  bled  lo  death. 

A  few  maniples  had  immediately  hastened  to  the  storming  of 
the  breastworks  on  the  roof,  and  bad  forced  its  defenders  either  to 
yield  or  rush  over  its  t)rink. 

Old  .Vlumnon,  wlio  hail  in  this  case  fought  against  his  emperor's 
general,  ana  could  count  upon  no  mercy,  swung  himself  over  Iho 


SERAPIS.  Ifi7 

parapet  of  the  roof  into  the  abyss  below,  and  others  followed  his 
example;  tor  was  not  the  end  of  all  thintrs  coming  nearer  and 
neaier.  and  to  the  more  noble  a  voluntary  death  in  battle,  for  the 
sake  of  the  ijreat  Serapis.  seemed  finer  and  more  praiseworlhy  than 
to  languish  fife  out  in  the  ehams  of  the  foe. 

CIiA.PTER  XXIV. 

The  terrible  storm  of  the  past  night  had  tilled  the  whc)le  city 
with  horror.  They  knew  what  threatened  Serapis,  what  stood  lie- 
tore  them  if  he  fell,  and  everybody  had  supposed  that  the  destruc- 
tion ot  the  world  was  at  hand.  But  the  tempest  was  over,  the  sun's 
ravs  had  scattered  vapors  and  cloud,  the  sky  and  sea  were  radiiuit 
in' limpid  blue,  while  tree  and  shrub  were  glorious  in  their  renewed 
Iresimess.  And  yet  tlie  Koman  had  not  ventured  to  hiy  hands  on 
the  patron  ot  the  city,  that  highest  of  the  gods.  Serapis  had  per- 
hups  onlv  sent  thunder,  liglitning,  and  torrents  of  rain  as  mes- 
sengers to  warn  his  enemies.  Let  them  take  heed  ot  pushing  him 
to  extremity,  let  them  abstain  from  the  crime  of  touching  his  like- 
ness. 

jSot  only  thouglit  the  heathen  thus.  Christians  and  Jews  as  well 
shuddered"  in  prospect  of  the  fall  of  Serapis  and  his  temple. 

It  was  tlie  pri;ie,  tiie  emblem  of  Alexander's  city;  to  it  were  at- 
laclied  institutions  and  schools  benefiting  thousands,  and  under  its 
protection  was  science,  of  which  the  Alexandrian  was  protid;  to 
the  Serapeum  belonged  the  ever-cherished  medical  faculty  whicli  up 
to  that  time  enjoyed^tlie  unchallenged  reputation  of  being  the  fiist 
in  the  world;  in  its  observatory  astronomers  regulated  the  course  of 
the  year  and  thence  sent  forth  the  annual  calendar.  An  hour  of 
sleep  in  its  halls  brouglit  dreams  full  of  import,  and  the  future  re- 
mained a  sealed  book  it  Serapis  fell;  for  the  God  revealed  to  his 
priests  not  only  through  the  course  and  position  of  the  heavenly 
l)Odies,  but  also  through  many  other  channels,  what  must  and  should 
come,  and  it  was  so  delighttul  from  the  commonplace  present  to 
peer  inti)  the  mysterious  morrow  and  day  after  to-morrow. 

Even  Christian  prophets  answereil  the  questions  of  their  brethren 
in  a  manner  that  admitted  ot  tlie  worst  interpretation,  and  as  one 
does  not  willingly  cut  down  a  tree  planted  by  one's  ancestors,  even 
thotigh  it  shuts  out  light  from  the  house,  so  many  a  baptized  person 
could  not  bear  to  think  ot  his  native  city  without  the  Serapeum  and 
Serapis. 

The  temple  might  be  closed,  it  might  be  prohibited  to  bring  bloody 
sacrifices  to  the  god;  but  his  image— the  very  noblest  work  of 
Bryaxis  by  the  way— to  touch  or  destroy  that  was  a  rash  momentous 
act,  a  crime  imperiling  the  city  and  the  world. 

So  thought  the  citizens,  so  thought  tiie  soldiers  too,  who,  by  dis- 
cipline, were  forced  to  draw  the  sword  against  the  god  in  whom 
many  of  them  believed. 

JNo  sooner  had  the  report  spread  that  early  in  the  morning  tho 
troops  had  undertaken  an  attack  upon  the  Serapeum,  than  thou- 
sands upon  thousands  flocked  together  in  fiont  of  it.  awaiting  in 
anxious  suspense  the  issue  of  the  conlli(;t  going  on  wiihm  the  temple. 

The  sky  was  still  as  cle"i  and  blue  as  upon  other  pleasant  iinys, 


168  SERA  PIS. 

but  in  the  north,  over  the  sea,  a  light  cloud  was  apparent,  perhaps 
the  forerunner  ot  that  teirible  army  of  clouds  which  the  god  meant 
to  bring  into  the  field  against  his  toes. 

The  defenders  of  Ihe  sanctuary  were  led  forth.  It  had  been  de- 
termined in  the  council  ot  war  to  e.\ercise  mildness  toward  thc^in, 
and  (;ynegius  had  full  power  to  pardon,  in  toto,  every  prisoner  who 
would  swear  in  future  to  oHer  no  more  sacrifices  and  to  give  up 
fre(^uenting  the  temple. 

or  llie  hundreds  who  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  Ihe  Romans  not 
one  refused  to  take  this  oath,  and  they  soon  dispt-reed  with  pent-up 
feelings  of  suUen  rage,  and  many  of  them  joined  Ihe  expectant  mul- 
titude in  order  to  await  here  the  further  proceedings  ot  the  Imper- 
ialists and  perhaps  the  end  ot  things. 

Tl»e  gates  ot  the  temple  were  wide  open,  here  the  servants  ot  the 
Serapeuui  were  cleaning,  there  many  hundreds  ot  soldiers  clearing 
the  steps  and  landings  ot  the  blocks  of  stone  and  statuary  with 
which  the  heathen  had  rendered  them  inaccessible,  and  as  soon  as 
this  work  had  come  to  a  conclusion  they  were  seen  bearing  forth 
the  bodies  ot  the  dead  and  wounded.  Amung  the  latter  was 
Orpheus,  the  son  of  Karnis. 

Those  defenders  of  the  sanctuary  who  had  happily  escaped  and 
joined  the  crowd  were  besieged  with  questions,  and  all  confirmed  the 
statement  that  so  far  ^erapis  had  remained  untouched. 

The  citizens  breathed  more  freely,  but  soon  tliey  were  seized  by  new 
excitement,  for  %n  ulci^  ot  panoplied  horsemen  appeared,  clearing 
the  track  for  an  immeasurably  long  procession,  whose  psalm  sing- 
ing drowned  the  shouts  and  murmurings  of  the  multitude,  the  rat- 
tling of  armor",  and  the  stamping  of  horses'  hoots. 

Now  it  was  clear  where  the  monks  had  stayed.  Nowhere  else 
had  they  ever  been  missing  when  a  blow  was  to  be  struck  at  the 
heathen,  but  until  now  only  individual  ones  had  shown  themselves 
before  the  Serapeum. 

There  now  they  appr-oached,  a  song  of  rejoicing  upon  their  lips, 
and  a  wilder,  more  relentless  ligiit  in  their  eyes  than  ever. 

J3eneath  a  lofty  canopy  moved  the  bishop  "in  great  stale,  llis  tall 
majestic  form  was  proudly  erect,  his  lips  firmly  closed,  lie  looked 
like  a  stern  judge  who  steps  upon  the  tribunal  to  pronounce  fen- 
tence,  with  all  severity,  in  some  case  of  shameful  crime. 

The  multitude  trembled. 

The  bishop  and  monks  in  the  Serapeum  portended  the  tall,  death, 
and  destruction  of  the  most  exalted  of  all  idols.  The  cheeks  of  even 
the  more  courageous  turned  pale,  many  who  had  left  wife  and 
children  behind  fled  home^'aid  in  order  to  perisb  with  them,  it 
perish  they  niirst;  others  stood  still,  watching  the  imperiled  temple 
amid  execjations  and  prayers;  but  tiie  most  part— men  lurd  women — 
pushed  forward  to  tne  sanctuary,  risking  their  lives  to  witness  the 
monstrous  event  impending  there  that  promised  lobe  a  spectacle  of 
spectacles. 

At  the  toot  of  the  grand  approach  Ihe  Comen  rode  forward  lo  meet 
the  bisho]),  leaped  from  his  horse  and  greeted  him  reverentially. 
The  imperial  legate  had  not  appeared;  he  had  i)referred  in  the  lirat 

*  A  huudred  iiieii. 


.SERA  PIS.  169 

place  to  remain  at  llie  Prefecture,  and  purposed  later  beincj  present 
at  the  races  from  tlieir  commencement  as  representative  of  liis 
emperor,  at  Ihe  side  of  the  city-prefect.  Evagrius,  who  likewise  held 
himself  aloof  from  the  attacks  upon  Serapis. 

Romanus  nodded  to  Constantine  Ihe  leader  of  the  cavalry  after  a 
brief  interview.  The  whole  body  set  oil,  and  headed  by  their  pre- 
fect ascended  the  inclined  plane,  which  led  to  the  lofty  front  gates 
of  the  Serapeum. 

The  Comes  followed  them  with  his  staff,  after  him  came  with  pale 
faces  and  hesitating?  foo'steps  a  few  otTicers  of  rank  and  Chris'tiau 
members  of  the  City  Senate,  and  lastly— he  had  suffered  the  others 
to  take  precedence  of  him— the  bishop  with  the  priests  and  chanting 
monks. 

Heavy  armed  infantry  closed  up  the  procession,  and  after  these 
pushed  on  the  crowd  without  being  hindered  by  the  troops  who 
kept  their  station  in  front  of  the  temple,  and  did  not  lose  sight  of 
them. 

The  great  halls  of  the  temple  had  been  cleaned  as  well  as  was 
possible  in  such  hasle. 

Of  all  those  who  had  streamed  hither  to  defend  the  god  and  his 
abode,  no  one  was  left  behind  but  the  sick  Porphyrius  and  his 
nurses. 

After  silence  had  prevailed  outside  for  a  long  while  and  a  series 
of  torturincr  moments  had  elapsed,  coarse  fists  had  knocked  at  the 
door  of  that  apaitment.  Goigo  had  htu-ried  forwartl  to  unbolt  it,  but 
the  physician  had  held  her  back,  and  now  the  door  was  forcibly- 
burst  open,  lifted  oft  its  hinges  and  hurled  into  the  corridor  upon 
which  it  opened. 

Immediately  afterward  soldiers  had  entered  the  room  and  were 
making  an  inspection  of  the  same. 

The  physician  was  pale  as  death,  and  incapable  of  speech  had  sunk 
down  upon  a  chair  Ijesiile  his  patient's  couch;  but  vvithqulet  dignity 
Gorgo  had  turned  to  the  centurion  in  command  of  the  intruders  and 
explained  to  him  who  she  was,  and  that  she  was  here  to  aid  the 
physician  in  attendance  upon  her  ill  father.  Then  she  had  requested 
to  speak  with  the  prefect  of  cavalry,  Constantine,  or  the  Comes, 
Komanus,  who  were  acquaintances  of  her  own  and  her  father. 

It  was  nothing  strange  that  a  sick  man  should  be  brought  to  the 
Serapeum,  and  the  calm,  unembarrassed  dignity  with  which  Gorgo 
spoke,  as  well  as  the  high  rank  of  tlie  men  to  whom  she  appealed, 
caused  the  centurion  to  meet  her  most  respectfully;  but  he  had  re- 
ceived orders  to  put  forth  from  the  temjile  every  one  who  was  not  a 
Roman  soldier,  and  so  he  desired  her  to  wait,  and  speedily  returned 
with  the  commander  of  his  legion,  the  legate  Volcalius.  This 
knightly  patrician,  like  all  connoisseurs  in  horse-flesh,  knew  the 
owner  of  the  finest  animals  in  Alexandria,  and  gave  Gorgo,  it  is 
true,  pel  mission  to  stay  by  the  sick  man;  yet  he  bade  them  consider 
that  grave  occurrences  were  at  hand,  and  upon  Gorgo's  insisting  on 
remaining  with  her  father  he  detailed  a  guard  tor  lier  protection. 

The  soldiers  had  their  hands  full,  so  merely  thrust  asile  the  door 
that  they  had  bui-st  open  instead  of  replacing  it  upon  its  hinges;  but 
Gortro  pushed  back  the  curtain — inasmuch  as  this  did  not  aifcct  her 
fatUer'8  comfort— wliicli  now  wastUeonly  thing sepHrating  her  from 


170  SEHAPIS. 

tlio  corridor  to  the  right  of  the  liypodylc,  and  looked  out  above  the 
heads  ot  a  double  row  of  toot  soldiers. 

They  had  been  placed  at  the  side  of  the  lowest  step  which  led  to 
ihe  corridors  on  both  sides  ot  the  hypostyle. 

Already  from  the  distance  Gorgo  perceived  that  a  great  multitude 
ot  men  were  approaching,  movmg  slowly  forward  with  long  inter- 
ruptions. In  tiie  vestibule  they  made  a  long  halt,  and  ere  they 
entered  the  basilica  twenty  priests  took  the  precedence,  with  singu- 
lar movements  and  wonderful  incantations.  These  were  exorcists, 
w  ho  were  to  banish  by  pious  exercises  the  evil  spirits  and  demons 
who  had  made  their  home  in  this  favorite  spot  for  idoJatry  and  ita 
abominations. 

"Ihey  held  crosses  before  them,  moving  tliem  like  weapons,  with 
whicii  they  were  lighting  foes  invisible.  Tliey  touched  with  them 
the  pillars,  the  floor  and  the  statuary  lett  standing,  cast  themselves 
upon  their  knees,  with  their  left  hands  making  the  sign  of  the  cross, 
and  finally  planted  themselves  like  soldiers  in  three  tiles  before  the 
niche  containing  the  god's  efligy.  pointed  to  it  with  their  crosses,  and 
recited  in  a  loud  voice  Ihat  sounded  stern,  imperious,  and  wrathful, 
those  strong  sentences  and  powerful  formulas  which  were  appointed 
for  exorcising  the  worst,  vilest,  most  stift-necked  of  all  the  lieathen 
demons. 

A  crowd  of  acolytes  who  had  followed  them  swung  censers  be- 
fore the  pestiferous  nest  of  the  king  of  idols,  and  the  exorcists 
dipped  i-ods  in  the  caldron  which  was  borne  in  their  train  and 
sprinkled  with  them  the  idolatrous  figures  upon  Ihe  curtain  and  the 
mosaics  traced  on  the  floor. 

These  carryings  on  consumed  many  minutes.  Then— and  now 
Gorgo's  heart  began  to  beat  cjuicker  and  quicker — then  appeared 
Constantine  in  a  rich  suit  of  arruor,  and  behind  him  an  nlu  ot  a  hun- 
dred ]iicked  men,  bearded  veterans  were  they,  with  s(;arred  faces. 

Instead  of  swords  they  carried  axes  in  their  hands,  and  behind  the 
last  member  of  this  imposing  company  came  soldier  boys  with  tall 
ladders,  which  they  leaned,  by  Constantine's  order,  against  the 
niche. 

The  foot-soldiers  who  formed  a  hedge  on  the  side  of  the  colon- 
nade started  when  they  caught  sight  of  those  ladders,  and  Gorgo 
felt  l)y  tire  trembling  of  the  curtain,  where  stood  the  doctor  at  her 
side,  how  great  his  agitation  must  be.  It  was  as  though  the  execu- 
tioner's ax  had  been  held  up  before  a  people  with  which  their  king 
was  about  to  be  executed. 

Now  appeared  the  bishop  and  dignitaries,  singing  priests  and 
monks  spread  themselves  out  in  the  vast  room,  and  made  incessantly 
the  tign  of  the  cross,  the  crowd  streamed  into  the  Iiypo.tiyle  and 
pressed  as  far  forward  as  was  allowed  by  the  chain  which  the  soldiers 
had  stretched  across  between  them,  thebishop  and  other  dignitaries. 
The  people,  heathen  and  Christian,  in  lively  mixture,  tilled  also  the 
colonnades;  the  chain,  however,  kept  them  back  from  that  end  of 
it  into  which  the  chamber  of  the  sick  Porphyrins  oi)ene(l.  and  so 
they  did  not  obstruct  Gorgo's  view  ot  the  niche,  hidden  by  the 
curtain. 

The  psalm-singing  thundered  through  the  spacious  temple  halh, 


SERAPTS.  171 

drowning  the  ginaiis  r.nd  murmurs  of  the  raving  multitude,  filled 
with  anguish,  and  prepared  tor  all  that  was  horrible  and  sacrilegious. 

Every  one  knew  what  crime  was  meditated  liere,  and  yet  but  few 
could  believe  that  they  would  actuidly  dare  to  perpetrate  it. 

^Vherever  Gorgo  looked  she  saw  pale  faces  distorted  by  passion- 
ale  and  painlul  excitement. 

Even  the  priests  and  soldiers  were  infected  by  the  same  apprehen- 
sions. Willi  leelh  clinched,  many  kept  their  eyes  fixed  stolidly  ou 
the  ground,  others,  in  order  to  mask  their  anguish  of  spirit,  cast  in- 
iiignant  and  defiant  glances  at  the  murmuring  people,  who  were 
trying  to  put  down  tlie  psahnsingin;^  with  their  loud  threats  and 
curses,  while  the  echo  redoubled  the  many-tongued  clamor  in  those 
vast  halls. 

An  uneasiness,  an  agitation  without  parallel  pervaded  this  densely 
paclved  assemblage. 

The  heathen  quivered  from  rage,  their  flncers  fumbling  for  amulets 
and  magical  charms,  or  shaking  their  fists;  the  Christians  trembled 
from  timidity  or  pious  expectancy,  and  moved  their  hands,  makmg 
tlie  sign  of  the  cross;  or,  with  oulslrelched  middle  finger,  protecting 
themselves  against  the  trickish  attack  of  demons.  That  something 
dreadful,  overpoweringly  horrib'e  w.as  impending,  could  be  read 
upon  all  features,  gathered  from  every  movement,  and  was  betrayed 
by  the  loudness  of  the  oaths  and  the  songs  ot  the  pious. 

It  was  with  Gorgo  as  though  she  stood  upon  the  brink  of  a  crater, 
earth  and  tiir  quaking  about  her,  as  though  she  could  see  the  hot 
ashes  and  lava  mounting  upward,  to  return  to  earth  and  spread  ruin 
and  desolation  far  and  wide. 

The  commotion  among  the  heathen  grew  louder  and  louder;  single 
stones  and  bits  ot  wood  flew  toward  the  spot  where  tarried  the 
bishop  and  dignitaries,  but  all  at  once  the  noise  cease<l,  and,  as  if  by 
a  miracle,  it  grew  still,  quite  still  throughout  the  broad  domains  ot 
the  temple. 

It  was  as  though  the  nod  of  Almighty  God  had  suddenly  changed 
the  ocean,  lashed  into  fury  by  the  "tempest,  to  a  calm  and  peaceful 
lake  Upon  a  nod  from  the  bi^ho])  acolytes  had  drawn  near  the 
niche  containing  the  statue  of  Serapis,  and  the  curtain  which  had 
hitherto  withdrawn  him  from  the  vulgar  gaze  slowly  fell. 

Thei-e  sat  Serapis  on  his  throne,  thence  he  looked  down  upon  the 
multitude  in  majestic  dignity,  unapproachable,  with  cool  pride,  as 
thont;h  he  were  highly  exalted  above  the  puny  carryings-on  of  the 
•worms  of  the  dust  at  his  feet,  and  to-day  the  siglit  of  him  produced 
the  same  impression  as  ou  yesterday. 

How  beautiful,  how  marvelously  noble  and  precious  was  this 
■work  of  human  skill!  It  forced  from  Christians,  even,  a  low,  long- 
drawn  out  exclamation  of  surprise,  admiration  and  astonishment. 

The  heathen  were  silent  at  firsr,  overpowered  by  pious  awe  and 
blissful  rapture,  but  then  they  broke  forth  into  a  loud,  enthusiastic 
ehout  ot  joy,  and  their  "  Hail  to  Serapis!"  "  ]jast  forever,  Surapis!" 
rauiT  from  column  to  column,  and  floated  upward  into  the  starry 
■world  of  the  stone  roof. 

Gorsio  held  her  hands  crossed  over  her  breast,  when  she  caught 
sight  of  the  god  in  his  exalted  beauty.  Faultlessl}'  and  spotlessly 
pure,  wholly  and  entirely  perfect,  stood  this  noble  work  before  her, 


172  SKUA  PIS. 

perhaps  only  a  britMe  idol,  hut  >;;o(l-likc,  as  fho  immortal  work  of  a 
friend  to  deity,  inspired  by  all  heavenly  niniiilesfalions. 

Her  eye,  as  if  spell-bouud,  cluug  lo  that  form  wliicli  was  human, 
and  }-et  transcending  the  human  as  fat  as  eternity  does  time,  or  sun- 
light the  far-reaching  light-house  on  Pharos;  and  she  said  to  larselt 
that  it  were  impossible  to  lay  hands  ou  that  nuble,  glorious  statue, 
Banctitied  by  the  nobility  of  imperishable  beaut}'. 

She  saw  how  tUe  bishop  took  one  step  buck  after  the  curtain  had 
fallea,  and  half  opened  his  lips,  perhaps  in  order  to  give  exjiressioa 
to  his  admiration  by  some  exclamation  like  the  rest;  but  she  saw, 
too,  how  he  closed  them  only  the  more  tightly,  how  fiercely  his  eye 
flashed  when  the  glad  shouts  of  tlie  heathen  rang  foith.'how  the 
veins  upon  his  high  forehead  swelled  when  tliat  "  Hail  to  Serapis!" 
was  heard.  Then  she  saw  how  the  Comes  whispered  a  few  sonlii- 
ing  words  to  the  church -prince,  perhaps  to  induce  him  to  spare 
the  idol,  not  as  a  god,  but  as  a  work  of  art;  and  liow  then — her 
lieart  stood  still  and  she  had  to  cling  last  to  the  curtain — the 
Comes  turned  away  from  the  Inshop,  shrugging  his  shoulders,  and 
with  a  movement  of  his  band  direc:ed  toward  the  image,  conveyed 
an  order  to  Constantiue. 

He  bowed  with  military  gravity,  and  then  gave  a  command  to  his 
troopers,  which  was  drowned  t)y'the  wild  cries  of  the  heathen,  but 
the  import  of  which  she  shuddcringly  guessed. 

Those  weather-beaten  warriors  were  stirred.  An  inferior  ofTicer, 
after  he  had  handed  the  vexillum*  to  the  man  next  him,  and  taken 
his  ax  from  his  hand,  walked  toward  tlie  statue,  looked  up  at  it, 
and  then  stepping  slowly  and  hesitatingly  backward,  returned  to 
his  comrades,  who  stood  loitering,  looking  at  one  another  deject- 
edly, questioningly,  and  defiantly. 

Airain  Constantine  gave  the  word  of  command,  and  this  time,  in  a 
tone  louder  and  more  imperious  than  before,  but  the  troopers  did  not 
budge;  and  when  the  infeiioi  ollicer  threw  down  his  ax  otliers  fol- 
lowed his  example,  pointing  to  the  god  with  violent  gestures,  and 
addressing  words  to  the  prefect,  which  must  have  contained  a  re- 
fusal to  obey  his  order;  for  he  stepped  up  closer  to  that  mutinous 
interior  ollicer,  a  gray-haired  veteran,  laid  his  liand  upon  his  shoul- 
der, shook  him  violently,  and  threatened  both  him  and  the  lest. 

In  those  brave  soldiers  the  habit  of  obedience  to  orders  and  love 
of  their  valiant  superiors,  contended  with  awe  of  tlie  god;  tliis  was 
seen  in  their  agitated  countenances,  by  their  hands  uplifted  in  en- 
treaty; but  the'i)refect  inexorably  reiterated  his  command,  and  when 
now,  too,  obedience  was  refused  him,  lie  turned  off  from  the 
trooptirs,  v.'ith  a  gesture  of  bitter  contempt,  and  called  to  the  double 
row  of  foot-soldiers  lining  the  colonnade  behind  which  Cforgo  fol- 
lowed these  proceedings,  bidding  them  execute  the  oriler. 

But  these,  too,  dared  to  disobey. 

The  heatlien  sent  up  a  shout  of  triumph,  and,  with  loud  cheers, 
encouraged  the  soldiers  in  their  resistance. 

Then  once  more  Constantint;  turned  to  liis  own  troopers,  and  find- 
ing that  Ihey  perseveieil  in  their  rtiliisal,  with  firm  step  he  ap- 
proached the  ladders,  with  strong  arm   lifted  out  from  the  wall, 

*  A  standard  for  cavalry  udonn-d  with  u  peiuiou. 


SERAPIS.  1 73 

leaned  it  a.c:Minst  the  breast  of  the  god,  took  up  the  ax  which  l:iy 
uearest  him,  mouuted  from  one  round  to  llie  other,  when  all  at  once 
the  n(jise  of  tlie  heathen  was  hushed;  it  grew  so  still  in  the  vast  hall 
that  one  link  upon  a  soldier's  shirt  of  mail  could  be  heard  clinking 
against  the  oilier,  so  still  that  one  could  hear  his  neighbor  breathe, 
and  Gorgo  thought  Ihat  she  heard  the  pulsations  of  her  own  heart. 

Man  and  goil  stood  ej'e  to  eye,  and  the  man  whose  errand  there 
was  to  lay  violent  hands  upon  the  god  was  her  betrothed. 

In  breathless  suspense  she  toUoned  each  of  his  movements,  and 
would  have  liked  to  hurry  after  him,  from  round  to  round,  to  catch 
him  by  the  arm  and  restrain  him  from  the  committal  of  such  an  un- 
heard-of crime,  and  this,  not  out  of  any  dread  as  to  tlie  ruin  with 
which  he  threatened  herself  and  all  the  world — but  only  because  she 
felt  that  as  his  ax  clave  the  ivory,  so  his  act  of  violence  against 
this  never-to  be-restored  marvel  of  human  skill  might  shatter  her 
love  for  him.  She  feared  not  for  him,  because  in  her  thoughi  he 
appeared  as  it  were  a  thing  set  apart  and  invulnerable;  but  her 
wtiole  soul  thrilled  with  horror  of  the  deed  that  he  dared  to  commit. 
Her  glance  clung  to  him,  as  the  distressed  child  to  the  neck  of  its 
mother,  and  the  thousands  assembled  there,  in  those  instants  of  tort- 
uring suspense,  saw  nothing,  nothing  but  him. 

Never  did  there  reign  more  perlect  silence  in  the  heart  of  the 
desert  than  now  in  this  hall  overflowing  with  passionately  excited 
luen.  Of  all  the  five  senses,  only  one  was  in  requisition  here,  viz., 
the  sight ;  and  yet  it  had  nothing  to  fasten  upon  but  the  simple 
object  of  a  human  hand  armed  with  an  ax. 

Hearts  stood  still,  the  breath  was  held  suspended,  there  was  a 
singing  and  roaring  in  a  thousand  ears,  and  a  flickering  of  vision  to 
many  who  strove  to  see  clearly  but  could  not;  and  these  thousands 
resembled  in  spiiit  the  condemned  criminal,  with  his  head  upon  the 
block,  who  hears  the  steps  of  the  executioner,  and  upon  the  thresh- 
old of  death  still  hopes  tor  a  reprieve. 

Gorgo  cotUa  not  find  the  answer  to  lier  question;  for  she  too  must 
see,  only  see. 

And  she  saw  how  Constantine  closed  his  eyes,  as  though  he 
dreaded  to  see  the  fulfillment  of  destiny  brought  about  through  his 
hand;  she  saw  how  with  his  left  hand  he  grasped  the  idol's  flow- 
ing beard,  saw  how  he  drew  back  his  right  arm  for  a  powerful 
stroke;  saw,  heard,  felt  how  the  ax,  once  and  again  whizzed  down 
upon  the  cheek  of  Serapis;  saw  and  heard  how  beautiful.'y  polished 
ivory  struck  upon  that  stone  floor  m  large  and  small  well-rounded 
bits,  rebounding  from  elasticity,  or  else  shivering  into  smaller  frag- 
ments. 

She  hid  her  face  with  her  hand,  and,  weeping  aloud,  buried  her 
head  in  the  curtain.  Sobbing  and  groaning  she  felt  and  thoughi  of 
nothing  than  that  something  terrible,  inconceivably  terrible,  had  hap 
pened. 

An  unparalleled  noise,  like  reverberating  thunder  and  the  dashing 
of  surt  upon  the  beach,  was  roaring  around  her,  but  she  heeded  it 
not;  and  when  at  last  the  doctor  called  to  her,  as  he  drew  her 
away  from  the  curtain,  and  her  eyes  oi)ened  again,  instead  of  that 
sublime  statue  in  the  niche,  there  stood  facing  her  a  shapeless  wooden 
trunk  of  a  body,  against  which  leaned  many  ladders,  and  at  the 


1T4  SKRAPIS. 

foot  of  which,  \n  hcwiklcring  ronfusion,  lay  hoaps  of  ivory  "hav 
iuiis,  gold  plates,  and  broUon  maihle  chips. 

Constanliiie  bad  vanished;  upon  the  rouiiils  of  Ihe  ladder,  and 
upon  the  block  now  stood,  in  motley  disorder,  cavalrymen  and 
monks,  niakinj^  a  finish  of  the  work  of  destnu  tiou. 

As  soon  as  the  prefect  had  struck  the  first  blow,  and  the  jrod  had 
received  it  in  passive  tranquiiJily,  the  men  had  rushid  upon  him, 
and  spared  their  leadei  the  prosecution  of  the  work  of  destiuclioa 
by  him  begun. 

The  great  image  in  the  niclie  was  no  longer  a  god. 

No  more  was  There  a  Seiapis;  the  heaven  of  the  heathen  had  lost 
its  king. 

In  speechless  rage,  and  3'et  with  agonized  souls,  the  worshiiKMS  of 
the  dethroned  god" rushed' out  into  the  open  air,  and  sought  in  vain 
lor  avenging  clouds  in  the  bright  sunlight  of  a  clear,  blue,  radiant 
sky. 

"Theophilus,  too.  and  the  Comes  had  withdrawn,  after  the  bishop 
hiul  committed  to  the  monks  further  oversight  of  the  work  of  de- 
struction. 

He  knew  his  followers  in  sheepsliin,  and  was  confident  that  in  a 
tew  days  not  an  idol,  not  a  represenation  not  a  sign,  tliat  reminded 
of  the  old  gods,  would  be  left  intact;  as  for  the  thousand  slaves,  to 
whom  the  leveling  with  the  ground  of  the  Seraiu'um  was  to  l)e  in- 
trusled.  his  impatience  would  intleed  have  to  grant  a  twenty-fold 
longer  respite. 

The  C'«///(;<  repaired  without  delay,  to  the  hippodrome:  and  thither 
preceded  him  hundreds,  bearing  with  them  to  the  assembled  throng 
the  liilinirs  that  Alexandria  had  lost  her  Serapis. 

Constantine  had  separated  himself  from  the  destroj'ers,  and  sat 
down  upon  the  steps  leading  to  the  colonnade. 

Absorbed  in  dark  and  melancholy  thoughts,  his  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  tlie  ground. 

rie  was  a  solaier,  and  felt  the  responsibility  of  his  calling.  Whai 
had  boon  done  he  was  compelled  to  do;  init  noboily  suspected  how 
hard  U  had  been  for  him  to  pel  form  that  frightful  task. 

He  stood  in  awe  of  his  own  act,  and  yet  he  would  have  com- 
mitted it  again  ou  the  morrow,  if  he  had  been  placed  in  the  same 
circumstances  as  on  to-day.  ^ 

Oe  regretted  that  beautiful  work  of  art  as  a  lost  treasure,  but  he 
felt  that  it  had  been  right  and  necessary  to  remove  it  from  the  world 
At  the  same  time  he  thought  of  Gorgo  and  how  shfc  would  bear  the 
news,  wlio  had  given  herself  to  Iiim  just  ou  yesterday.  lie  lov(d 
her  wiih  his  whole  heart,  and  yet  he  knew  that  the  ground  upon 
which  she  was  averse  to  his  faith  was  because  she  believed  it  to  be 
inimical  to  the  beautiful.  And  was  it  her  lover  who  had  lifted  his 
arm  like  a  rude  savage  against  that  noblest  work  of  art,  which,  in 
his  heart,  he  esteemed  as  hiizhly  as  she  did? 

He  reflected,  and  in  so  doing  probed  the  inmost  recesses  of  Ids 
foul.  and  again  he  had  to  admit  lh;it  he  had  done  no  wrong,  and 
another  time  would  have  to  act  similarly,  even  at  the  risk  of  losing 
lier.  He  knew  nothimr  nobler  than  (Joriro;  should  he  dare  then,  to 
lead  her  to  Ihe  altar  with  a  stain  upon  Ids  honor?  Ilut  he  did  not 
hide  It  from  himself  that  his  deed  had  dug  a  det'i)  chasm  between 


SEUAPIS.  175 

her  and  himself,  a  d  in  his  Irouhle  he  was  reminded  of  the  tragedy 
and  that  Destiny  ot  the  ancients  which  punishes  her  victims  as  guiliy 
willionl  their  havini:  guilt  of  their  own. 

This  day,  perhaps,  marlied  tlie  downfall  of  his  happiness;  most 
prohably  he  must  go  forth  into  battle,  and  fight  on  until  he  met 
death  on  the  battle  field. 

Thus  he  sat  pondering,  and  his  looks  grew  more  and  more  dark, 
his  head  sinking  lower  and  lower  upon  his  burdened  bosom.  Then 
Jie  felt  a  light  touch  upon  his  shoulder,  and  when  he  turned  around 
there  stood  Gorgo  behind  him,  and  she  oflered  him  her  right  hand; 
but  he  sprung  from  his  seat,  seized  the  dear  hand  with  passionate 
ardor,  looked  sorrowfully  into  tlie  young  girl's  eyes,  and  said, 
liinidlj^  and  with  deep  emotion:  "  1  should  love  to  hold  it,  hold  it 
•  forever;  but  will  j'ou  let  me,  when  1  tell  you  wliat  this  right  hand 
has  done?" 

'  1  know  it,"  replied  she  with  firmness.  "  And  was  it  not  hard, 
very  hard  for  you  to  do  it?" 

"  Unspeakably,  unspeakably  hard!"  replied  he;  and  he  drew  up 
his  shoulders  as  though  struck  by  new  pain  at  the  recollection  ot 
that  dark  fatality. 

Then  she  gave  him  a  long,  tond  look,  and  exclaimed:  "  And  you 
did  it  because  you  must  nni  will  be  what  you  are.  That  is  right;  L 
teel  it  to  be  so,  and  shall  try  to  imitate  you,  and  break  with  tliat 
half-heartedness  which  poisons  existence  and  changes  the  firm  path 
of  life — 1  have  experienced  this — into  a  tottering,  unsafe  bridge.  1 
will  be  wholly,  wholly  yours,  and  henceforth  iiave  no  other  God 
than  yours,  and  out  of  love  for  you  learn  to  love  your  God,  of  whom 
you  have  so  often  spoken  to  me  as  a  God  of  love." 

"He  is  so,"  cried  Constantino,  "and  you  will  understand  and 
know  him,  too,  without  any  teaching,  tor  whoever  has  a  heart  full 
ot  love,  in  him  our  Saviour  dwells.  Oh,  Gorgo,  Gorgo!  1  have 
siiattered  that  beautiful  idol,  but  1  will  sbow  yui  th-di  as  a  good 
Christian,  too,  the  beautiful  may  be  cherished  and  esteemed  both  in 
house  and  heart." 

"i  believe  you!"  cried  she  joyfully.  "The  earth  still  stands 
firm  and  shakes  not,  in  spite  ot  the  fall  of  Serapis;  but  it  really 
seems  to  me  as  though  one  world  had  been  obliterated  from  my  soul, 
and  as  though  a  new  one  had  arisen  that  is  higher,  purer,  and  per- 
haps even  more  beautiful  than  the  other!" 

He  pressed  her  hand  to  his  lips;  but  she  beckoned  him  to  follow 
her,  and  led  him  to  her  father's  couch,  who,  with  wide-open  eyes, 
was  leaning  against  the  physician's  breast,  and  greeted  them  with, 
a  faint  smile  as  they  entered. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

The  great  hippodrome  was  filled  by  many  thousands  of  specta- 
tors. At  lirs^t,  t')  be  sure,  whole  rows  of  seats  had  stood  vacant, 
while  at  other  times  the  people  had  begun  to  assemble  directly  after 
midnight,  and  long  b-.-forc  the  beginning  of  the  sliow   every  seat 


170  SERA  PIS. 

had  bcon  occupied.  As  for  the  upper  wooden  galleries  of  the  trih- 
ucics  wlicrc;  vveie  lice  seats  and  standing-room,  thoy  were  generally 
so  crowtlcii,  even  e;irly  in  the  morninj;;,  that  there  were  ofleu  bat- 
tles over  thetn,  not  a  tew. 

This  time  many  had  been  licpt  baclv  in  tlie  beginning,  from  at- 
tendance upon  tiie  entertainment  to  which  they  had  been  so  long 
loolcing,  ardently  looking  forward,  in  the  first  place  hy  the  storm 
of  the  past  night,  anxiety  as  to  the  issue  of  the  fight  over  the  Sera- 
peum,  and  dread  lest  the  world  should  actually  come  to  an  end. 
But  when  the  sunny  sky  preserved  its  clearness,  and  it  was  kiiowu 
that  the  statue  of  Serapis  had  been  respected  during  the  whole  dura- 
tion of  the  tight  in  the  sanctuary,  when  they  saw  the  imperial  legaie 
Cynegius  and  the  city  prefect  Evagrius  enter  the  arena  in  great 
pomp,  and  that  they  wtre  followed  by  many  senators  and  distin- 
guished lords  ami  ladies  from  Christian,  heathen,  and  Jewish  cir- 
cles, even  the  timid  took  heart,  and  the  commencement  of  the  rares 
liaving  been  postponed  tor  an  hour  before  the  first  team  had  been 
led  into  the  waiting-place  near  the  stfnting-puiut,  the  seats  were 
ahundautly  well  occupied,  although  not  so  full  as  usual. 

Tiie  nundjur  ot  teams  entered  for  the  race  was  not  a  whit  behind 
the  usual  mark,  for  the  heathen  had  bent  their  every  energy  tovvaid 
showing  their  fellow  citizens  of  a  dilTereni  faith  and  the  envoy  of 
Theodo'sius  that,  in  spite  of  all  persecutions  and  imperial  edicts, 
they  were  still  a  power  to  be  by  no  means  despised. 

The  bishop's  declaration  that  Christianity  had  ceased  to  be  a  re- 
ligion for  the  poor  here  received  striking  confirmation;  for  a  great 
part  of  the  seats  set  aside  for  dignitaries,  senators,  and  rich  fami- 
lies of  the  city,  were  taken  by  confessors  of  his  faith,  and  the  men 
and  women  occupying  them  in  gorgeousness  ot  apparel  and  splen- 
dor of  jewelry  yielded  in  nothing  to  their  heathen  compeers. 

The  Christian  turn-outs,  too,  which  punctually  presented  them- 
selves at  a  place  appointed  for  the  assembling  together  ol  the 
chariots  entered  for  the  race,  could  not  fail  to  please  the  connois- 
seur; nevertheless,  he  could  not  help  looking  with  greater  confi- 
(ieiiee  upon  the  heathen  horses,  and  especially  their  drivers.  The 
reason  for  this  was  plain,  inasmuch  as  hitherto  victory  had  fallen 
lo  their  side  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten. 

The  four-in-hand  with  which  Marcus,  the  son  of  Maria,  appeared 
at  the  halting-place  outside  the  ring  had  never  before  appeared  in 
the  hippodrome.  Demetrius,  the  brother  of  the  owner,  hjid  trained 
for  him  this  double  pair  ot  noble  coal-black  Barbary  steeds,  and 
tliey  e.veited  attention  among  the  judges,  who  were  accustomed  I  > 
saunter  about  in  theso-calle(l  oj^pidum  behind  the  carc.rcs*  in  order 
to  inspect  the  horses,  predict  the  fortunes  of  the  day,  to  impirt 
counsel  lo  the  charioteers,  arid  lay  down  their  wagers. 

Perhaps  these  perfect  animals  might  equal  the  famous  chestnut 
stallions  of  the  rich  Iphicrates,  who  had  already  won  so  many  laces; 
but  more  than  the  horses  must  the  drivers  or  charioteers  be  taken 
into  consideration,  and  although  ]\larcus  understood  well  en(mgh 
how  to  handle  the  reins— this  had  been  seen  in  courses  made  tor 

*  Covered  sheds  or  carriage-hoases,  in  whieli  the  teams  u.sed  lo  wait,  befor<t 
the  signal  luwl  been  given  for  the  stwrt. 


SERAPIS.  1-77 

exercise— yet  he  could  hardly  compare  himself  with  the  handsome 
Hippias. 

Tliis  man,  like  most  who  entered  the  lists  here,  was  a  charioteer 
by  profession,  it  was  said  of  him  that  he  had  driven  across  a 
bridge  not  tul'y  the  width  of  his  carriage-wheel  tracK,  and  many 
could  testify  that  with  horse  and  chariot  he  could  trace  the  name  of 
his  mistress  in  the  sand  of  the  liippodrome. 

Most  and  highest  bets  were  made  upon  liim  ami  the  chestnuts  of 
Iphicrates.  A  few  adventured  smaller  sums  ui)on  Marcus'  Biir- 
bary  steeds,  yet,  when  they  compared  the  tall  but  sliglitly-built 
form  of  the  Christian,  the  delicate  features  of  his  face,  v\ith  the 
dreamy  expression  of  his  large  blue  eyes  and  thesolt  down  upon  his 
tipner  lip,  with  the  Achilles-form  and  Mercury-head  of  Hippias, 
tlie'y  began  to  tremble  for  their  good  gold.  'Yes,  if  his  farmer 
brotlier,  who  was  now  standing  by  his  chariot,  or  a  profes  ed 
cliaiioteer  had  charge  of  those  superb  horses,  it  would  Ije  a  pleasure 
t(?  bet  upon  them.  "Marcus  had  been  away  upon  a  trip,  and  at  men- 
tion of  this  they  shrugged  tlieir  shoulders;  tor  not  until  the  last 
few  days  had  his  steeds  been  introduced  to  the  race-course. 

Time  pi'ogrtssed,  and  when  the  imperial  envoy,  who  had  been 
chosen  umpire,  had  taken  his  place,  Demetrius  wliispered  to  ]\lar- 
tus  a  few  more  words  of  caution,  and  then  wilhchew  to  the  arena. 

He  had  secured  to  himself  a  good  seat  on  the  shady  side  of  the 
stone  2')o<Umn,  although  several  seats  among  those  allotted  to  his 
family  stood  empty;  but  he  would  not  make  use  of  one  there,  be- 
cause he  wished  to  avoid  his  step-mother,  who  liad  made  hei  appear- 
ance under  the  escort  of  two  kinsmen  of  hers,  senators. 

He  had  met  her  neither  yesterday  nor  the  day  before,  for  the 
promise  lie  had  made  old  Karnis,  of  looking  lor  his  wife's  sister's 
child,  had  left  him  no  breathing  space,  for  he  had  been  truly  ear- 
nest in  his  effort  to  find  the  maiden. 

The  high  spirit  with  which  she  had  disdained  his  magnificent 
nresenis,  utterly  poor  as  she  was,  had  iuspirect  him  with  respect 
for  lier,  and  it  struck  him  in  the  light  of  an  insult  to  himself  or 
his  brother  when  Gorgo  tiarl  called  her  a  hussy. 

He  thought  that  he  had  never  met  a  more  lovely  being;  lie  could 
not  forget  her,  and  the  thought  pained  him  that  she  might  sink  in 
the  mire  of  the  great  city,  into  which  she  had  plunged  through  inex- 
perience. His  brother  had  a  prior  claim  to  her;  and  with  him  he 
would  not  contest  it.  While  he  had  not  grown  wearv  of  hunting 
her  up  in  every  place  of  youthful  resort,  even  in  Carnopus  Street, 
he  had  only  piirposed  to  bring  her  into  a  place  of  safety,  aa  a  trens- 
nre  likely  to  be  lost  to  his  family  otherwise,  and  which  must  l)e 
safely  garnered  in  the  first  place  before  it  could  be  proved  who  had 
the  best  founded  claim  to  its  possession. 

All  his  eflorts,  however,  had  been  in  vain,  and  he  had  come  to 
the  liippodrome  in  anything  but  a  pleasant  mood. 

There,  tlie  bitter  animosity  which  had  met  him  everywhere  in  his 
native  city  during  this  visit,  appeared  to  stir  with  no  less  activity 
than  out  upon  the  street.  The  solemn  procession  in  which  the 
ciiariois  used  to  repair  tc  the  lace-course,  this  time  liad  not  dared  to 
form;  without  pomp,  individual  equipage;?  had  driven  into  WxQop- 


178  SERAI'IS. 

iv'ilmn,  and  the  sfaluea  of  the  cods  which  used  to  be  placed  upon 
"the  xpina*  no  lonuer  dared  be  seen  in  the  hippodrome. 

All  this  vexed  Demetrius,  and  ;ilter  he  had  iouud  his  seat,  he 
looked  peevishly  uroiind  upon  the  spectators. 

In  the  place  set  aside  tor  his  family,  and  furnished  with  cushions 
and  lion-skins,  sat  his  stepmother.  Her  upper  and  lower  rohe 
showed  the  blue  color  of  the  Christian  contestants,  and  consisted  of 
deep-blue  silver  brocade,  in  which  were  artistically  interwoven 
crosses,  tish,  and  olive  branches.  Her  black  liair  was  smooth,  and 
lay  close  to  her  temples,  and  was  without  wreath;  but  n  strini;  ot 
large  old  pearls  was  around  her  head,  and  from  Miis  hungdowQ 
upon  her  forehead  a  circlet  of  blue  sapphires  and  white  opals.  The 
back  of  her  head  was  veiled,  and  with  au  absent  air,  as  if  she  might 
be  praying,  she  looked  down  into  her  lap.  Here  rested  her  hands, 
and  they  clasped  a  ciucilix. 

Such  repose  of  manner,  such  a  modest,  downcast  glance  became 
the  Christian  matron  and  widow.  Everybody  should  see  that  this 
spectator  had  not  come  here  to  gratify  a  taste  for  worldly  pleasures, 
but  only  to  be  present  at  a  triumpii  of  her  own  party,  and  especially 
of  her  sou  over  the  idolaters.  Everything  about  her  bore  witness  to 
her  creed,  even  the  pattern  of  her  clothes  and  style  of  adornment, 
even  the  silk  warp  of  her  gloves,  into  which  were  woven  a  cross 
and  an  anchor,  so  that  they  cut  one  another  and  formed  the  figure 
ot  the  Greek  X,  the  initial  sanding  for  Christ's  name. 

She  wanted  to  look  plain  and  free  from  the  vanity  of  this  world, 
but  what  she  wore  must  be  costly,  tor  she  was  here  to  do  honor  to 
the  faith  which  she  represented. 

To  wear  wreaths  of  sweet,  fresh  flowers  she  would  have  put  far 
from  her  as  a  heathen  abomination;  but  for  the  proceeds  of  that 
string  of  pearls  the  whole  arena  might  have  been  garlanded,  and  a 
hundred  arms  filled  with  flowers  every  day  the  whole  year  round. 
]t  seems  so  much  easier  to  deceive  the  all-wise  Creator  of  us  all 
than  our  simple  neighbors. 

Just  as  Maria  sat  there  in  stilT,  modest  dignity,  so  the  painters 
and  sculptors  ot  the  time  began  to  depict  llie  Virgin  ]\Iary,  and  the 
farmer  shivered  as  long  as  his  eye  rested  upon  his  step-mother. 

After  such  a  glance  it  did  him  good  to  hear  the  merry  laugh  that 
rang  in  his  ear,  coming  up  to  Inm  from  the  lowest  step\)t  ttie 
jmUum.  When  he  found  the  place  whence  it  came,  he  would  not 
trust  the  evidence  of  his  own  senses,  for  there  sat  the  wearisomely 
sought-after  Dada  between  an  old  man  and  younger  woman,  and 
seeming  to  have  encountered  something  very  enjoyable. 

After  Demetrius  had  comfortably  and  cheerfully  stretched  him- 
self, lie  erot  up,  for  just  behind  Dada  sat  his  attorney,  and  inasmucli 
as  it  seemed  advisable  to  him  not  to  let  the  game  escape  from  liis 
net  this  time,  he  went  up  to  this  man  and  asked  him  in  a  wldsj^er 
to  change  seats  with  him,  and  the  old  man  obliged  him  i)!easantly, 
giving  him  a  significant  smile  as  he  vacated  the  seat  in  his  favor. 


*  The  spine  is  a  long  i^flestal  (in  the  circus  of  Caracalla  it  nu^isured  abonk 
two  liundred  and  .seventy-live  meters)  wliicli  cut  tlie  race  course  inio  two  iiarts, 
beiriK  orifrinallj'  couslriK-ted  of  wood,  afterward  of  stone.  Its  lieij:lit  wa.s  rch- 
erally  nine  meters.    Tlie  goals  were  at  the  two  euds  of  this— four  nictcns  away. 


SERAPIS.  179 

Diida  bad  spent  a  sleepless  night  for  the  first  time  since  she  could 
remember.  Who  knows  whetticr  storm  and  tempest  of  themselves 
could  have  disturbed  her  slumbers;  but  there  was  enougli  of  a  varied 
anil  moving  character  working  upon  her  brain  to  deprive  her  of 
sleep,  vvilliout  going  further  to  discover  its  cause. 

Hornet imes  she  had  thought  of  her  fanuiy,  who  were  doing  battle 
for  Serapis,  sometimes  of  Agnes,  and  what  had  become  of  her,  some- 
times of  the  church  and  the  uood  old  priest's  sermon,  sometimes  of 
the  races  at  which  she  was  to  be  present,  and  at  the  same  lime  the 
image  of  the  Christian  Marcus  haunted  her  soul  with  persistent 
vividness. 

As  a  matter  of  course  she  would  take  the  side  of  his  horses;  but 
■what  a  strange  conjunction:  she,  Karnis'  niece,  on  the  Christian  side! 

Vet  stranger  was  it,  meanwhile,  that  she  could  no  longer  believe 
all  those  bad  things,  which  from  a  child  up  she  had  been  hearing 
of  the  adherents  of  the  crucified  Jew.  Karnis  cuuld  not  forgive  them 
for  having  shut  up  his  theater  at  Tauiomenium,  and  perhaps  had 
not  rightly  understood  them. 

Hhe  had  often  enjoyed  light  pleasant  hours  at  the  festivals  of  the 
old  gods,  and  they  certainly  deserved  to  be  called  beautiful  and 
bright— dreadful  too,  when  they  were  angry;  but  for  a  long  while 
licr  soul  had  felt  an  undefinea  longing  that  no  heathen  temple  had 
ever  provided  material  for  stilling.  8he  knew  not  by  what  name  to 
call  it,  and  would  have  found  it  hard  to  describe,  but  it  had  been 
quieted  for  the  first  lime  in  that  church  by  prayer,  singing,  and  the 
.sirmon  of  the  old  priest;  then  she  had  felt  that  with  all  her  tolly 
and  helplessness,  even  though  she  should  remain  separated  from  her 
foster  parents,  she  need  no  longer  stand  alone,  but  could  lean  upon 
and  cling  to  a  great,  loving  and  helpful  power.  And  she  neeiled 
such  a  support,  for  she  was  so  easily  deceived.  The  girl  Stepha- 
nion,  a  flute-phiyer  who  had  bi.eu  with  them  at  Rome,  had  gotten 
everything  out  of  her  that  she  wanted,  and  had  passed  ofC  on  lier  all 
her  own  misdoings.  There  must  be  something  peculiarly  defense- 
less about  her;  for  everybody  undertook  to  manage  her  as  it  she 
were  a  child,  or  attributed  such  things  to  her  as  made  her  perfectly 
furious. 

In  the  hippodrome  she  thought  only  of  the  living  present,  and  felt 
hrrself  to  be  fortunate,  for  it  was  her  portion  to  sit  on  the  lowest 
row  of  the  stone  j)0(U^im>i,  and  moreover  on  good  chairs,  in  the 
shade  that  belonged  to  the  rich  Posidonius;  aiwl  this  was  something 
entirely  diflerent  from  when,  in  Rome,  she  had  once  stood  in  the 
Circus  Maxiraus,  on  the  second  wooden  gallery  crowded  and 
squeezed,  unnoticed  by  anybody,  looking  upon  the  races  from  a  dis- 
tance and  down  upon  the  heads  of  men  and  animals. 

ITerse  }:ad  never  again  taken  her  along  with  her  there,  for  on  go- 
ing out  she  had  lieen  pursued  and  spoken  to  Ijy  men5'oung  and  old, 
aiid  her  foster-mother  had  afterward  shielded  her  everywhere  against 
danger,  and  never  since  allowed  her  to  take  ten  steps  in  the  city  un- 
attended. 

Here  it  was  much  finer  than  up  there  in  the  circus;  for  liere  she 
was  separated  from  the  track  only  by  a  narrow  canal,  which  was 
bridged  over  just  in  front  of  her,  a'nd'it  was  nice,  too,  to  be  noticed 
and  attract  u  thousand  approvin<i  looks  to  one's  self. 


180  SERAPIS. 

Even  the  great  Cynes;iuR,  the  nofarj^ind  legate  of  the  emporor  who 
had  iih-ea:ly  singled  her  out  on  the  ship,  oitcu  looked  across  ul  lier. 
A  sliort  tiuie  before  he  had  been  borne  across  the  track  on  a  goldrn 
litter  b}'  leu  gigantic  l)lack9,  preceded  by  twelve  lictors,  who  boi- 
iasces  wreathed  in  laurel,  and  now  he  sat  upon  a  decorated  throne 
chair  in  the  middle  of  the  tribune  over  the  point  of  departure — hut 
she  was  not  concerning  lierselt  With  that  bedizened  old  man. 

She  had  eyes  tor  everything,  and  whatever  struck  her  she  got 
j\I.  dius  and  his  daughter  to  tell  her  about  and  cxplidn. 

Demetrius  delight'cHi  in  her  gay  spirits,  and  (hen  she  touched  the 
singer  and  whispered  to  him:  "  Only  see  liow  those  people  over 
there  stretch  out  their  necks  to  look  at  us;  hut  my  dress  is  prelty! 
Where  did  your  Posidonius  get  these  expensive  roses?  On  ilie 
waist  from  the  shoulder  to  the  girdle  alone  there  areover  a  hundicd 
buds;  1  counted  them  on  my  way  herein  the  litter.  What,  a  jiilv 
that  they  tade  so  soon!  1  should  like  to  dry  the  leaves  and  make 
attar  of  roses  Dut  of  them." 

Uvn-.  the  farmer  ioined  in  the  conversation,  saying  across  her 
shouhk'r:  "  There  would  hardly  he  enough  for  that." 

This  unexpected  speech  caused  Dada  to  turn  around,  and  t^he 
blushed  when  she  recognized  the  brother  of  Marcus;  but  he  assured 
her  that  he  had  long  since  repented  ot  having  made  so  free  with 
her  the  day  before  yesterday. 

Whereupon  she  laughed  and  saii  il  had  been  her  fault;  as  lor 
the  rest  s!ie  might  have  sent  him  home  more  courteously,  but  she 
had  just  been  put  into  a  very  ill-humor,  as  who  would  not  have 
been  it  thej'' had  been  treated  as  Ilerse  did  her,  hiding  her  shoes, 
so  that  she  was  compelled  to  stay  on  the  deck  of  a  ship'in  the  mid- 
dle ot  the  water.  Then  she  made  him  ae(piainted  with  Medius,  and 
finally  asked  him  about  Marcus  and  his  horses,  and  whether  he 
thought  he  might  hope  to  win  the  victory. 

Demetrius  gladly  listened  to  her  talk,  and  when  flower-girls  passed 
through  the  rows  of  seats  and  offered  tor  sale  wreaths  w^ith  tlowers 
and  ribbons  red  and  blue,  Demetrius  bought  (he  very  prettiest  olive 
crown  ot  them  all  for  her  to  throw  to  "the  victor  who  he  lioped 
would  be  Marcus. 

Medius  and  his  daughter  wore  scarfs  in  the  red  r>olor  of  the 
heathen,  and  like  them  Dada  had  put  a  similar  one  on  her  shoulder; 
but  now  the  maiden  got  Demetrius  to  hand  her  some  blue  ribbons, 
and  to  the  disgust  of- Medius,  put  them  on  instead  of  the  red,  Ite- 
cause  she  was  on  Marcus'  side. 

Ilereui^on  the  farmer  laughed  aloud  in  his  gruff  voice,  and  as- 
sured lier  that  Iuh  brother  was  zealous  enough  now,  Initif  ho  should 
see  her  with  those  ribbons  on.  he  would  do  his  very  best  to  tlumk 
her  for  the  pari  winch  she  had  taken,  She  might  know  one  tiling, 
viz.,  that  Marcus  liad  not  forgotten  her. 

"  That  pleases  me!'"  answered  she  simply,  adding  that  it  was  the 
same  case  with  her,  tor  she  had  been  thinking  all  night  about  Mar- 
cus and  his  horses. 

Medius  could  not  forbear  reminding  her  hereupon  that  Karnis 
and  ilerse  wotild  take  it  very  ill  if  eiie  wore  ('hristian  colors  to- 
liav;  but  she  replied  that  she  was  very  sorry,  but  blue  pleased  her 
belter  than  red. 


sy.uAns.  181 

This  answer  SdUiuied  so  distant  and  curt,  th:it  it  ;-lruck  Dciiic 
trius,  who  bad  usually  seen  her  cheerful  iind  unrestrained,  that  llicie 
was  but  little  conueniality  between  Dadaand  her  protectors— yes,  lie 
was  certain  that  her  position  was  not  a,^Ieeable  to  her. 

Music  sounded  from  the  towers  <m  eacii  side  «f  tfhe  setting-oft 
stand;  but  its  strains  were  less  lively  and  varied  than  usual,  for 
flute-playing  and  many  other  heathen  fashions  had  been  discarded 

At  other  times  the  hippodrome  had  been  a  phice  of  resort  for  lovers, 
and  many  a  new  engagement  had  been  entered  into  there,  but  to-iiay 
the  daughters  of  the  Ijest  families  had  not  been  allowed  to  leave 
their  private  apartments,  for  evil  was  confidently  predicted  on  ail 
sides;  the  events  going  on  in  the  Serapcuirr  kept  many  heatlien 
youtlis  aloof  from  tiie  races,  and  it  was  as  though  a  mysterious  some- 
thing burdened  the  air  and  checked  the  merriment  that  had  wont  to 
be  at  home  here. 

Passionate  excitement,  expectation  on  tlie  qrii  rive,  favor  and  dis- 
favor liad  ever  Ijcl-u  in  place  here,  but  to-day  these  feelings  had 
assumed  an  intensified  form,  hatred  had  mingled  in  tliem  and 
possessed  herself  of  the  whole. 

Everywhere  the  lieatlren  were  injured  in  their  rights,  insulted 
and  oppressed.  They  saw  the  Christians  triumphing  in  a  hundred 
departments  of  life,  and  haired  is  a  many-sided  monster  who  rages 
in  the  fiercest,  most  inexorable  manner  when  he  bursts  forth  from 
the  venomous  cave  of  Envy. 

But  the  Christians,  too,  hated  the  idolaters,  who,  with  proud  self- 
exaltation,  bragged  of  their  spirrtual  possession,  the  inheritance  of  a 
glorious  past.  The  persecuted  and  reviled  were  now  the  ruling  and 
powerful  party;  the  more  domineeringly,  then,  they  met  the  subject 
faction,  tlie  greater  injustice  tliey  did  them;  and  the  less  possible  it 
•was  for  tlie  ojipressed  heathen  to  avenge  this,  the  more  deeply  be- 
gan the  Christians  to  hate  those  whom  they  despised  also  as  super- 
stitious idolaters. 

la  their  care  for  their  divine  part,  the  soul,  hitherto  the  Cliiistians 
liad  sHgh'ed  the  nurture  and  physical  training  of  tlie  l)ody,  and  so 
in  the  gymnasium  and  hippodrome  up  to  this  time  the  heathen  liad 
maintained  undoubted  superiority. 

There,  in  tlie  ring,  the  Christian  scorned  to  sppear,  for  to  show 
himself  with  naked  body  was  for  him  an  abomination;  but  in  the 
hippodrome  he  had  begun  to  drive  his  own  horses  and  already  more 
than  once  won  the  crown  from  old  victors,  and  so  the  lieatlieu  felt 
themselves  threatened  in  this  domain  also  with  the  loss  of  ancient 
and  well-maintained  claims  to  unapproachable  superiority.  This 
was  hard  to  bear,  this  could  not  be  bioolied,  and  the  bare  thought 
of  being  surpassed  here  roused  in  the  heathen,  as  it  were,  violent 
indignation  and  hatred. 

They  showed  to  which  party  they  belonged  by  resplendent  wreaths 
of  scarlet  poppies,  pomegranale  blossoms  and  glowing  roses,  wliile 
their  red  dresses  were  decked  off  with  crimson  ribbons.  The  wliile 
and  green  which  tliey  had  formerly  used  as  an  extra  means  of  dis- 
tinguishing one  from  the  other  were  now  discarded,  for  their  whole 
force  was  to  be  lient  against  one  opponent. 

Red  sunshades  protected  their  ladies,  and  red  wei-e  even  the  has- 


js-i  SERA  PIS. 

K-«ts  in  which  wore  kept  the  provisions  destined  for  the  hours  dur- 
iiijl  which  tlie  rsiccs  would  last. 

On  the  other  hand,  like  the  Widow  Maria,  all  the  Christians  were 
decked  in  blue  from  the  head-gear  to  the  sandals  that  were  tied 
around  tlicir  •finkles  with  blue  ribbons,  and  Dada's  blue  iavor  was 
not  at  all  in  keeping  with  her  rose-red  robe. 

The  slaves  Irom  the  cook-shops  who  handed  refreshments 
aiound,  offered  for  sale  red  and  blue  eggs  with  Iced  cakes,  and 
liquors  from  vases  of  both  colors. 

Where  a  Christian  happened  to  he  seated  beside  a  heathen, 
shouliler  was  obliquely  turned  to  shoulder,  and  where  those  of  op- 
posite faith  had  to  face  one  another,  it  was  done  with  scowling 
faces. 

Cs'negius,  as  umpire,  sought  to  postpone  the  beginning  of  the  race 
as  long  as  possible;  for  he  was  earnestly  desirous  that  the  Cornea 
shoulil  accomplish  his  task  in  the  iSerapeum  and  allow  him  tlie  dis- 
posal of  the  troops,  at  all  events  before  the  games  came  to  a  close 
in  the  hippodrome. 

Time  passed  swiftly  enough  with  him,  for  the  great  multitude 
assembled  here  interested  him  specially,  frequently  as  he  had  been 
present  at  similar  entertainmeuls  at  Rome  and  Constantinople,  inas- 
much as  it  differed  essentially  from  the  spectators  whom  he  had  met 
at  other  circuses.  More  black  and  brown  than  white  men  had  the 
free  places  in  the  upper  tiers.  Upon  the  stone  poch'/im  ot  the  lower 
gallery  sat  upon  costl}'  chaii'S  and  sofas  ot  their  own,  Ix^tween 
Greeks  and  Egyiitians,  thousands  ot  richly  rlressed  men  and  women, 
with  sharply  cut  Semitic  features,  members  of  the  great  Jewish  com- 
munity, wliose  gra^'-haired  chief,  the  alabarch,  a  dignified  patri- 
archal-looking individual  in  Greek  attire,  sat  in  his  vicinity  beside 
the  leaders  of  the  Senate. 

The  Alexandrian  was  no  friend  to  procrastination,  and  already 
the  impatience  ot  the  multitude  was  venting  itself  in  wild  uproar 
when  Cyuegius  arose,  and  with  a  white  cloth,  gave  the  signal  for 
the  races  to  start. 

From  fifty  the  spectators  had  grown  to  sixty  and  eighty  thou- 
sand, while  behind  the  airceres  Irailed  six  and  thirty  harnessed 
teams. 

Four  mhsua  or  races  were  contemplated. 

Twelve  chariots  were  to  take  part  in  the  first  three,  and  to  the 
fourth  were  to  be  admitted  only  the  three  victors  of  Iht;  preceding 
viisxns.  To  him  who  won  in  this  decisive  struggle  the  olive  crown 
and  palm  was  to  be  adjudgetl  the  honors  ot  the  day;  bis  parly  had 
beaten  the  other  and  might  leave  the  hippodrome  in  triumph. 

In  the  oppulnm  behind  the  rnrcercH  it  was  decided  by  lot  whence 
each  chariot  should  lake  its  dei)arture,  and  to  what  nu'snus  belong. 
Marcus  came  in  first,  and  wiih  him  to  the  horror  of  those  who  had 
l)et  ui)on  his  liorees,  that  matador  of  charioteers,  Hippias.  with  his 
four  chestnuts. 

While  heathen  priests  poured  out  libations  to  Neptune  and 
I'ho'bus  Apollo,  the  tutelary  deities  of  the  horse  and  hippodrome— 
for  l)Ioo(lv  **acriii('cs  were  iutenlicted — presbyter  and  exorc-ist,  in  the 
bishop's  "name,  iili:sscd  the  Christian  steeds.'  A  few  monks  had  fol- 


SERA  PIS.  183 

lowed  them,  but   were  ilriven  away   with  bitter  monkery  by  the 
heathen  as  imljiilden  intruders. 
Cynegius  agaiu  siu;naled. 

Trumpet  calls  rent  the  air,  and  now  the  twelve  first  teams  drove 
iKito  the  sheds  appointed  tliem,  wlieie  they  were  to  remain  until  the 
sisrna]  was  to  be  given  tor  the  start. 

After  a  few  minutes,  from  an  altar  in  front  of  the  carceres,  rose 
up  an  automaton  eagle*  with  outsi)read  wings,  and  instantly  the 
teams  left  their  sheds  and  placed  themi?elves  up  behind  the  setting- 
out  line,  which  was  a  broad  chalk-mark  drawn  across  obliquely,  in 
order  to  equalize  the  advantage  of  the  teams  staitinglrom  the  outer 
wings. 

Only  those  spectators  occupying  the  preferred  places  over  the 
carares  had  hitherto  been  in  a  position,  if  they  turned  around,  lo 
overlook  the  horses  and  tlieir  drivers;  for  tlie  great  mass  they  were 
now,  tor  the  first  time  visible,  and  at  sight  of  them  they  broke 
forth  into  loud,  far-echoing  shouts  of  applause. 

The  charioteers  had  to  exert  all  their  might  lo  restrain  their 
champing  steeds  from  rushing  forward  at  sound  oi  this  noise,  but 
it  was  only  for  a  few  minutes,  for  again  liad  Cynegius  givt-n  a  sign, 
and  now  fell  to  tlie  ground  a  golden  dolphin  which  had  been  sus- 
pendeil  beneatli  a  balcony,  and  upon  which  ttie  looks  of  all  the 
charioteers  were  fastened;  a  deafening  blast  from  the  trumjiets 
pealed  forth,  and  forty-eight  steeds  dashed  out  upon  the  broad 
track,  as  though  leleased  from  restraint  by  a  single  hand. 

Playing,  as  it  were,  those  powerful  sets  of  four  horses  lore  those 
light  two-wheeled  vehicles  over  the  hard  ground,  which  had  been 
treed  from  dust  by  the  last  night's  rain. 

Bright  sunshine  glittered  and  sparkled  and  was  reflected  with 
brief,  intermittent  flashes  in  the  splendid  gilding  of  the  bronze,  and 
the  silver  oi  the  crescent-shaped  chariots,  with  their  vichly-carved 
decorations,  wherein  stoi-d  the  charioteers. 

Five  blues  mingled  with  seven  reds,  as  haiJ:  been  determined  by 
lot. 

The  eye  delighted  to  follow  that  sinewy  form  whose  naked  foot 
seemed  to  be  rooted  to  the  carriage,  whose  eye  to  have  grown  to 
that  normal  point,  the  aim  of  its  siruggles,  and  yet,  like  the  archer, 
who  takes  in  all  at  once,  arrow,  bow,  and  target,  his  tour  horses 
were  never  out  of  mind. 

A  cap  with  fluttering  ribbons  kept  in  place  his  curly  locks,  a 
short  and  seamless  jacket  covered  his  body,  around  which  broad 
straps  were  interlapped,  as  though  for  the  purpose  of  girding  up 
his  strength. 

Over  the  hips  were  the  reins  fastened,  that  the  hands  might  be 
left  free,  partly  to  Knide  these,  partly  to  hurl  the  lash  and  use  the 
goad.  In  each  girdle  stuck  a  knife  with  which  to  cut  loose  from 
the  horses  if  self-preservation  required  this. 

Soon  Hippias' chariot,  drawn  by  tlu;  four  chestnut  stallions,  took 
the  lead  of  all  others.  Two  Christian  teams  came  next,  then  tluee 
reds,  while  behind  the  rest  Marcus  came  last;  but  one  could  see 
that  he  and  his  chariot  drew  up  the  rear  as  a  matter  of  choice,  not 
necessity, 

*  So  at  Olympia. 


184  SERAPIS. 

Tlic  son  of  Maria  swayerl  far  hack,  his  feet  pressed  against  the 
silver  cnrriage-iim  in  front  of  his  Icnees,  and  with  all  his  force  he 
curbed  the  career  of  his  snorting  steeds. 

Soon  these  chased  past  Dada  and  his  bi other,  1)ut  Marcus  heeded 
them  not.  lie  had  been  blind  to  his  own  mother,  too,  while  pro- 
fessional charioteers  bowed  to  ('3'negius  and  noddeil  at  llioir  friends. 
He  w.is  conscious  that  mind  and  e^e  must  be  intent  upon  horses 
and  goal  only. 

The  rrowd  yelled,  huzzaed,  encouraged  their  favorites  by  loud 
cries,  whistled  and  liissed,  when  they  were  disappointed  in  their 
expectations,  and  loudest  of  all  when  Marcus  appeared  behind  the 
others,  but  he  either  did  or  would  not  hear  them. 

Dada's  heart  leat  well-nigh  to  bursting.  She  could  not  sit  quiet, 
jinnped  up  quickly,  fell  back  U])on  her  sofa,  and  addiessed  stim- 
ulating words  to  Marcus,  in  the  brief  seconds  when  it  would  have 
been  possible  tor  him  to  hear  them. 

IVlien  he  had  passed  her  head  sunk,  and  she  said,  mournfully, 
"  Poor  fellow!  Have  a  heed,  Demetrius,  we  have  bought  our 
wreaths  in  vaui." 

But  the  farmer  shook  his  head  and  cried,  "  In  that  slender  body 
the  youth  has  nerves  of  steel.  How  he  holds  in  those  steeds!  He 
saves  up  for  the  time  of  need.  Seven  times,  seven  full  times, 
maiden,  must  he  pass  the  vi/xKa*  and  go  around  ibis  vast  amphi- 
theatre. What  he  loses  now,  note  well,  he  will  make  up  for.  Hip- 
pias,  too,  is  already  reining  in  his  chestnuts;  it  is  his  way  to  show 
oil  at  the  start!  Now  be  approaches  the  ui/ssa  or  kamplcr — at  Rome 
they  call  it  the  meta.  Tbe  sharper  is  the  curve  made  in  turning  the 
greater  is  the  advantage,  but  that  thing  is  dangeious.  Do  you  see? 
The  course  goes  from  right  to  left,  and  much  depends  upon  the 
left-hand  horse,  it  must  almost  turn  upon  itaelt.  Aura  there  in 
our  chariot  is  quivering  like  a  panther,  and  1  trained  her  myself. 
Look  j'^onder!  That  brazen  horse  rearing  up -they  call  it  the 
iaraxipjms^ — which  frightens  the  horses,  and  Meggra,  llie  third 
horse,  is  like  something  possessed,  but  she  is  swift  as  a  deer.  As 
often  as  Marcus  gets  his  four-in-lianil  quietly  i>ast  the  tfii(i.i'ippus 
we  have  reason  to  breathe  more  freely.  But  now,  open  vour  ej'cs 
wide,  now  the  first  chaiiot  drives  around  the  goal.  It  is  llippias! 
Curse  him!  There  he  is  around!  He  is  a  miserable  braggart,  but 
fie  knows  his  business." 

One  of  the  decisive  moments  for  the  contest  had  come.  The 
shouts  of  the  crowd  had  lulled;  it  was  felt  that  expectation  liad 
reached  its  climax,  and  Dada's  eyes  hung  spell-bound,  as  it  were, 
upon  tlie  obelisk,  and  the  teams  tiiat  rushed  up  to  it. 

A  blue  followed  Ilillins.  and,  at  its  heels,  three  leds. 

Tlie  Christian,  who  bad  succeeded  in  keeping  next  to  the  vyssa, 
drove  his  team  shortly  and  boldly  around  the  obelisk  in  order  to 
gain  grounil  and  oullly  Ilijipias,  but  the  left  wbcel  of  his  chariot 
struck  the  granite  base  of  the  goal,  overturning  the  vehicle,  and  the 
liorses  of  the  red,  whose  noses  almost  touched  his  chariot,  cnuld  not 
be  checked  at  the  right  time.     They  rushed  over  the  Christian's 

*  The  goal,  called  in  Greek:  Nyssa&xyA  Kampter ;  in  Latin  Meta. 
+  The  taraxippus  at  Olyinpiu  hail  tho  sliapo  of  ft  roinul  altar. 


SERA  PIS.  185 

team  that  were  struggling  frantically  on  tho  ground,  the  chariof 
which  they  drew  likewise  nverturned,  and  in"  wild  entanglenu'nt 
eight  snorting  horses  hiy  wallowing  on  the  ground. 

The  racers  to  the  next  chariot  shied  when  they  had  to  pass  by  the 
neighing  and  contused  mass  near  the  7neia,  and  wholly  unmindful 
of  The  efforts  ot  th(^ir  unnerved  diiver,  shot  diagonally  across  the 
track  to  the  carcercs.  The  follo\\ing  teams  had  to'make  around  tiie 
overturned  chariots  a  wide  circuit  that  consumed  time  and  space, 
Marcus  being  ot  the  number. 

At  sight  ol  Ihe  confusion  by  the  meia  his  black  steeds  grew  al- 
most ungovernable,  itnLl  now,  as  they  rushed  past  the  tara.fippHS, 
as  Demetrius  had  dreaded,  the  third  horse,  Megara,  shied.  8he 
bounded  aside,  thrust  her  l):ick  under  tlie  shafts,  hoisting  up  the 
body  ot  the  chariot,  and — Dada  clapped  her  hands  before  her  face, 
but  the  Widow  Maria,  turning  pale,  contracted  her  eyebrows— and 
the  young  man  lost  his  hold  and  tell.  His  feet  touched  the  sand  of 
the  arena,  but  his  hand  grasped  firmly  the  spiral  at  the  extreme 
verge  of  the  right  side  of  the  chariot. 

Many  a  heart  on  the  tribune  stood  still,  many  'a  cry  ot  malice 
escaped  the  lips  ot  Uie  heathen,  but  before  a  half  minute  had 
elapsed,  with  strength  and  agility,  he  had  swung  himself  upon  one 
knee,  and  a  minute^later  he  stood  erect  in  the  chariot,  arranging  the 
reins  with  lightning  like  rapidity,  and  then  on  he  flew. 

Meanwhile  Hippias  had  far  outstripped  all  the  rest,  and  when  he 
came  by  the  carccres  he  paused  there  for  an  instant,  as  though  in 
mockery,  tore  a  full  cup  from  a  seller  ot  lemonade,  and  swallowed 
down  its  contents,  with  adt-risive  gestuie,  amid  the  admiring  shouts 
of  the  crowd,  and  then  let  his  chestnuts  dash  forward. 

A  wide  space  separated  him  from  Marcus  and  the  rest  on  the 
track,  str.'tohing  far,  f.ir  in  the  distsiuce. 

When  the  teams  approached  the  gaol  for  the  second  time  the  hip- 
poilronie  sliives  had  long  since  cleared  out  ot  their  way  the  over- 
turned vehicles.  A  Christian  followed  Hippias,  a  heathen  him,  but 
Marcus  had  become  the  fourth, 

lu  making  the  third  circuit  of  the  obelisk  the  chariot  of  the  red 
preceding  Marcus  struck  against  the  hard  granite  as  it  described  a 
short  curve.  Together  with  his  shattered  vehicle  he  was  dragged 
through  the  arena  and  was  left  lying  in  the  sand  a  corpse. 

On  the  fifth  course  round  the  ring  the  blue  that  had  hitherto  kept 
nearest  to  Hippias  suffered  the  same  fate,  yet  he  escaped  with  his 
life,  and  Marcus  passed  second  by  Cynegius'  stand. 

Hippias  had  done  with  jibes  for  the  present,  for  the  space  which 
divided  the  black  steeds  from  his  chestnuts  diminished  at  every 
circuit  of  the  ring,  in  spite  of  Marcus'  detention  at  the  iaraxtpptix, 
and  from  this  time  forth  the  sympathy  ot  the  spectators  was  wholly 
centered  upon  himself  and  the  son  ot  Maria. 

Never  before  had  any  race  been  so  passionately,  so  bitterly  con- 
tested on  this  old  race  course,  and  the  throng  ot  spectatoi-s  was  car- 
ried away  by  the  zeal  of  the  charioteers,  which  amounted  to  tr-enzy. 

for  a  long  while  already  not  a  creature  in  the  upper  galleries  had 
retained  a  seat.  Men  and  women  were  on  their  feet,  shouting  and 
cidlini!  into  the  arena  with  might  and  main. 

The  bauds  of  music  in  the  towers  seemed  to  have  ceased  playing, 


18C  SKiiAris. 

8ft  .'omplelely  were  (hey  overpowered  by  tlie  stentorian  ontcricH  of 
these  tens  of  thousunils  of  voices.  Only  ilie  mulrons  oh  tlie  ilmice 
so^ls  over  tlie  nirarcs  refained  their  composure,  nud  vet  wlicii  tlie 
seveulli  decisive  circuit  Ijciran  even  the  Widosv  Maria  bcnl  fiirlher 
forward,  and  her  hands  clasped  n^^re  tis^htly  tlie  cross  in  her  lap. 

As  often  as  Marcus  drew  near  the  obejisk  on  the  fur/.nppiix, 
Dada,  leaning  far  torw^ard,  pressed  her  band  to  her  forehead  and  bit 
her  lips;  but  when  he  had  happily  rushed  by  that  frightful  stone, 
and  horrifying  image,  she  had  thrown  herself  back  in  her  seat,  draw- 
ing a  deep  breath  of  grateful  relief. 

She  felt  herself  one  with  Marcus,  anil  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  his 
defeat  would  be  her  death,  and  as  though  his  victory  would  redound 
to  her  honor. 

At  the  sixth  circuit  Ilippias  was  still  ever  a  good  way  in  advance 
of  the  Christian  youth,  and  the  distance  •vvhich'parted  him  from  tbe 
chestnut  team  seemed  to  have  become  irrevocably  fixed,  for  it  would 
not  lessen  by  a  single  hand's-breadth. 

The  management  of  the  charioteers  had  long  since  completely 
changed.  Instead  of  holding  them  in,  Ihey  uiged  them  forward*. 
Leaning  far  forward  over  the  chariot-railing,  they  goaded  on  tbe 
horses  iiy  words  and  wild,  hoarse  yells,  laying  tliC  whip,  too,  un 
sparingly. 

With  smoking  flanks  and  foaming  nostrils  the  animals  chased  on 
in  glowing,  desperate  haste. 

From  the  dry,  uptorn  and  much-beaten  track  dust  rose  in  clouiN. 

The  other  teams  stayed  fuitlier  and  further  behind  Hiitpias  and 
]\larcus,  and,  as  these  now  approached  the  goal  for  the  seventh  and 
last  time,  the  shouts  of  the  crowd  stopped  for  a  second,  to  break 
forth  again  only  the  louder  and  fiercer,  and  once  more  stop. 

It  seemed  as  though  the  restrained  foice  of  worn-out  lungs  worked 
with  redoubled  power  after  suspense  had  locked  long  enough  the 
jaws  of  those  thousands. 

Dada  talked  ik)  more  with  her  companion.  Pale  and  l)realhlesa  she 
fl.xeil  her  eye  upon  the  towering  stone  and  the  cloud  enveloping  the 
teams  more  closely  the  nearer  tliey  approached  the  goal. 

A  liundred  paces  before  the  vuld  &hv.  saw  the  red  cap  of  Hipjiias 
emerge  from  tlie  dust;  but  soon  afterward — and  now  close  behind  it 
— Maicus'  blue  one.  Tlien — a  thrilling,  deafening  shout  from  a 
tbou'saml  throats  cleaved  the  sky — then  once  more  the  blue  cap  was 
distinguisbalile  from  the  gray  clouds,  gleaming  so  close  by  the 
obelisk  as  almost  to  graze  it  and  not  leave  room  enough  for  a  wheel 
or  horse  to  come  in  between  tl;e  stone  and  driver,  and  this  lime  was 
seen  through  the  dust  behind — behind,  not  liefore  it — only  as  far 
from  the  goal  as  the  length  of  a  horse  and  chariot— the  red  cap  of 
Ilippias. 

Maicus  had  outstripped  his  competitor  hard  by  the  goal,  driving 
round  tlie  hard  stone  by  means  of  a  bold  curve,  imperiling  the  lives 
of  lioth  team  and  driver,  liut  the  chestnut  steeds  weie  left  liehind. 

Demetrius  saw  all  this  aa  i!  his  eye  had  power  to  scatter  dust,  and 
now,  too,  his  composuie  forsook  him,  and,  with  ti  loud:  "Dear, 
siilciidid  fellow!"  he  threw  up  liis  arms  as  if  in  pr:iyer,  and  yelled 
as  though  his  brother  could  hear  him:  "The  wlii]*!  Tlie  goad! 
On,  on,  though  it  be  the  death  of  them!     Spur  uii  those  horseal" 


SFAixns.  1F.7 

Then  Dadn,  wlio  only  suspeclpd  wiifit,  was  irning  on,  tnrneii  to 
him,  and  tisked  with  qiiiverini;  voice:  "  Does  lie  outstrip  hiniV  Is 
he  beating?     Will  he  win?" 

But  Demetrius  did  not  answer;  only  pointed  with  his  finirerat  the 
cloud  in  front,  moving  ahead  with  the  swiftness  of  the  wind — how- 
ever, a  second  cloud  began  to  mix  with  it  more  and  more,  and  be- 
side himself,  he  cried  out:  "Death  and  destruction'  Tlie  other 
passes  him  again.  The  dog!  The  scamp!  If  the  boy  would  only 
use  the  goad!  On,  on!  Wland  up  to  it,  Marcus!  Good  boy!  Good 
boy,  only  don't  give  up  now!  Great  Father  Neptune  I — tliere — there 
—there— but,  no!  My  knees  tremble,  lie  holds  his  own  yet,  and 
now— now!— the  question  is  decided!  Let  the  lightning  strike  me! 
Oh  I— the  dust  tlies  together  again— and  now— now— may  he  choke! 
No,  no— praised  be  the  Godhead!  '1  hose  front  ones  are  my  own 
horses,  and  now —  Forward,  forward !  Glorious  fellow!  tie  has 
won!" 

The  horses  stood  still,  the  dust  dispersed;  IMarcus,  the  Christian, 
had  conquered  in  the  first  missun. 

Cynegius  handed  the  crown  to  the  young  man,  and  he  received  it 
thankfully. 

Theu  he  saluted  his  mother,  who  nodded  to  him  with  gracious 
composure,  and  finally  he  drove  back  into  Ihe  opjndum  behind  the 
sheds. 

Hippias  threw  down  his  whip  in  a  fury,  and  the  Christian's  shout 
of  triumph  drowned  the  music,  the  blare  of  trumpets,  the  invec- 
tives and  the  grumblimi  of  the  defeated  heathen. 

Threatening  fists  wure  uplifted  behind  the  aireeres,  thecharioteeis 
and  owners  of  horses  ou  the  red  side  scoUledand  reproached  one  an- 
other; and  for  a  little  they  would  have  torn  Hippias  in  pieces,  who, 
to  gratify  a  miserable  desire  to  brag,  had  cast  victory  in  the  lap  ot 
their  arch-enemies,  those  blues,  those  Christians. 

There  was  a  terrible  uproar,  an  unparalleled  excitement,  bat  Dada 
heard  and  saw  nothing  ot  all  tliis.  She  only  lot>ked  down  in  mute 
rapture,  and  bright  tears  coursed  over  her  cheeks. 

Demetrius  saw  those  tears  and  rejoiced  in  them.  Pointing  out 
Maria,  he  Informed  tbe  maiden  that  yonder  was  the  mother  of 
Marcus.  At  the  same  time  he  iuwanlly  vowed  that,  cost  what  it 
would,  he  would  unite  his  brave  brother  with  this  lovely  and  inno- 
cent young  girl. 

The  secontl  and  third  missus  passed  oft,  like  the  first,  with  many 
an  accident,  and  in  both  cases,  the  reds  won  the  crown. 

At  the  fourth  decisive  race,  only  three  contestants  entered  the  lists: 
the  two  heathen  victors  and  Marcus. 

Demetrius  followed  this  match  with  less  suspense.  He  knew  tliat 
his  Barbary  steeds  excelled  the  Egyptian  stallions  in  powers  of  en- 
durance; and  he  was  the  t)etter  satisfied  on  this  point,  because  they 
had  rested  longer  than  the  others. 

Indeed,  this  time  victory  fell  to  the  son  ot  Maria  easily  and  com- 
pletely.* 

Long  before  the  race  was  decided  Dada  had  looked  impatiently 
uiion  her  crown,  and  could  not  now  expect  to  cast  it  to  lAiarcus  in 
his  ciiariot.  When  all  was  over,  periuips,  she  might  find  some  op- 
portunity of  speaking  with  him,  and  she  delighted  in  the  tone  of 


188  SERAris. 

liis  voice,  and  tlir  look  out  ot  his  large,  gotid  eyes.  If  be  were  to 
jisk  lier  (o  follow  him  ii^'iiiii,  she  would  do  so.  let  Karnis  and  Jlersse 
eav  what  tlity  would  to  the  contrary.  Go  with  him  aha  would, 
wherever  and  to  whomsoever  he  asked. 

It  seemed  to  her  as  though  no  other  could  rejoice  over  his  victor}' 
as  she  did,  as  though  she  belonged  to  him,  and  had  always  be- 
longed to  him,  being  parted  from  him  only  by  some  caprice  of  a 
trickish  destiny. 

Anil  now,  again,  loud  peals  of  triumph  sounded,  and.  in  obedience 
to  an  old  custom,  the  victor  hart  to  ride  around  the  track  in  a  walk, 
showing  his  gallant  steeds  to  the  spectators. 

He  cau.e  nearer  and  nearer,  and  Demetrius  invited  her  to  follow 
him  over  the  canal,  which  separated  Wiapodium  from  the  tracu,  and 
nut  throw  his  brother  the  crown  she  had  for  him,  but  hand  it  to 
him  hirself. 

At  this  proposition  she  blushed  deeply,  and  said  neither  jx's  nor 
no;  however,  she  rose  up  quickly  wi;li  a  bright  but  bashfiil  smile, 
hung  a  wreath  upon  her  arm,  and  gave  Dtiiuetrius  the  other  olive 
crown,  and  tallowed  him  over  the  little  bridge  to  the  track,  on  to 
which  many  Christians  had  already  crowded,  seeing  that  the  racing 
was  over. 

The  l)rothers  greeted  one  another  while  yet  far  apart,  but  ]\Iarcus 
did  not  recogni/e  Dada  until  lie  had  stopi">ed  beside  Drmctrius,  and 
she  was  extending  an  olive  crown  to  him  bashfully,  but  with  a  face 
radiant  from  joy. 

He  felt  as  if  Heaven  had  wrought  a  miracle  in  his  behalf,  and 
never  had  he  seen  her  look  so  beautiful  as  at  this  instant.  Since  he 
had  seen  her  last  she  S'jemed  to  have  grown  graver  and  more  nolile; 
and  he  observed  likewise  the  blue  knot  on  her  bosom,  and  the  one 
in  the  wreath  of  roses  encircling  her  fair  head. 

Happiness  and  surprise  taking  possession  of  him  paralyzed  his 
tongue;  but  he  took  the  crown  from  her,  seized  her  hand,  but  could 
only  say:  "  Thank,  thank  j'ou.  Dada." 

liis  eye  rested  upon  hers,  he  forgot  where  he  was,  and  asked  not 
what  it  meant,  when  his  brother  suddenly  turned  off,  and  with  a 
himr  bound,  sprung  after  a  nan  who  flew  past  him  witli  his  liead 
inullled  up;  he  heeded  not  that  many  thousands,  his  own  mother 
among  them,  were  looking  at  him;  and  herepeatetl  his"  thank  you," 
and  "  Dada,"  the  only  words  that  he  could  articulate,  and  he  would 
have  said  them  ottener  yet,  had  he  not  b(en  interrupted,  lor  the 
jxirta  Ubiiinaria  was  burb,t  open,  the  gate  throuiih  which  they  had 
been  accustomed  to  carry  the  dead  and  woun  led  into  the  street  out- 
side, and  through  this  forced  tlieir  way  a  body  of  e.\ciled  heathen, 
crying  to  those  in  the  hippodrome:  "Serapis  has  fallen!  They  have 
destroyed  Iheimasreof  Serapis!  The  Christians,  the  Christians  are 
destroying  tlie  sanctuaries  of  the  gods!" 

Then  a'great  horror  fell  upon  the  assembled  multitude,  the  reds 
rushed  from  their  seats  into  the  arena,  to  question,  to  hear,  to  oihr 
resistance  or  seek  for  safety. 

In  a  trice,  the  victor's  chariot  and  horses  were  in  n  throng  of  men; 
Dada,  in  anguish,  clutched  at  the  chariot,  but  ISbucus  slot)ped  and/ 
drew  her  in,  without  thinking  or  retlection,   hardly  master  of  hiiu- 
selt  any  longer.      Willi  liis  steeds,  lie  soon  earveil  a  way  l(;r  liiiiii-elf 


SERAPIS.  189 

I'.ii'ongh  Uie  crowd,  drove  past  the  carrsres,  casting  a  timid  glauce 
upward,  wilhout  tiuding  his  motiier,  however,  and  liually  through 
ihe  grand  gate  (»t  exit,  drove  into  the  public  street  his  exhausted 
steeds,  dripping  as  they  were  with  sweat  and  covered  with  white 
toam. 

His  hostlers  had  followed  him.  He  threw  the  reins  to  them,  after 
freeing  himself  from  liis  confinement.  Then  he  asked  Dada,  after 
she  had  jumped  witli  him  to  the  giound:  "  Will  you  follow  me?'' 
and  her  answer  ran:  "  Whithersoever  you  will!" 

The  Widow  Maria  had  risen  from  her  seat  with  more  haste  than 
comported  with  her  dignity  upon  hearing  the  tidincs  of  the  tall  of 
iSerapis;  and  then  gained  her  littei,  under  the  protection  of  the 
guards,  who  attended  tl)e  legate  Cynegius. 

In  the  hippodiome  disorder  prevailed;  reds  and  blues  rushed  upon 
nue  another  like  tuiious  wild  animals,  on  the  podium,  in  the  upper 
galleries,  and  on  the  dusty  racc-tracii.  A  nd  the  t)loody  scuiHe— not  a 
rare  thing  here  in  quieter  times — lasted  until  the  imperial  soldiers 
parted  thw  unarmed  combatants. 

Tlie  bishop  was  charmed  ivith  the  victory  which  had  everywhere 
crowned  his  people's  efforts;  and  it  was  not  unmiugled  with  pleas- 
ure that  he  heard  of  the  escape  of  Olympius,  Helladius,  Ammonias, 
and  other  intellectual  leaders  of  the  heathen. 

Let  them  come  back  again,  speak  and  declaim  to  their  hearts' 
d'jsire;  tlieir  power  was  broken,  the  church  need  fear  them  no  more; 
but  for  the  intellectual  development  of  her  rulers,  she  had  still  use 
for  their  science  and  their  teachings. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

The  great  hippodrome  was  outside  the  Canopian  Gate,  to  the 
north  of  the  street  leading  to  Eleusis,  and  this  was  to  day  full  of 
men  all  pressing  in  the  same  direction.  The  confusion  produced  in 
the  stadium  by  the  news  that  Serapis  had  fallen  drove  home  the 
more  quiet  and  peaceable  sort  of  citizens,  and  precisely  to  this  class 
belonged  the  wealthy,  who  had  come  in  their  carriages  and  litters. 
Little  room,  then,  whs  left  in  the  broad  street  for  pedestrians;  but 
Btill  they  pushed  forward;  for  every  tiling  streamed  into  the  city, 
and  the  beatheu,  who  followed  the  first  messengers  of  misfortune 
from  the  Serapeum  to  the  hippodrome  had  hard  work  to  force  their 
way  through  the  crowds  of  people  huirying  toward  home. 

Marcus  and  I3ada  allowed  themselves  to  be  borne  onward  by  the 
throng  struggling  to  reach  the  town  wall  and  Canopian  Gate. 

Phabis,  Maria's  old  steward,  who  had  been  charged  to  assist  his 
young  master  in  disrobing,  after  the  close  of  the  races  had  removed 
his  charioteer's  cap  from  his  head,  thrown  a  cloak  over  his  slioulders 
and  followed  him,  m  lien  he  moved  oil  in  company  with  the  young 
singer.  The  old  man  could  right  well  explain  tiiis  episode,  for  it 
was  he  who  had  escorted  Dame  llerBe  to  his  mistress.  She  had  then 
struck  him  as  licing  a  sensible  and  well-meaning  woman,  and  now 
it  was  evident  that  she  had  been  right  when  she  accused  Marcus  of 
laying  snares  for  her  foster-child.  At  the  time  it  liad  been  dillicult 
for  him  to  believe  this,  tor  he  had  never  yet  detected  his  young 
master  in  treading   upon  forbidden  paths,  but  then  Marcus  was  his 


190  SEIIAPIS. 

fallier's  child,  and  wlien  a  young  tellow  liow  many  love  scrnpcs  of 
Apdles  be  had  been  obliired  to  expose.  iNow  came  the  son's  turn, 
and  if  be  was  as  serious  in  Ids  attachment  to  llie  gracetul  young  girl 
at  his  side  as  in  all  things  else,  and  should  take  it  mio  bis  head  to 
make  tiie  singer  his  wile,  what  battles  be  foresaw  between  him  and 
his  mother! 

The  old  servant  attempted  to  follow  Marcus,  but  was  not  ob- 
served, for  the  latter  had  only  eye  and  thought  for  bis  "  treasure 
trove,"  and  with  bei  on  bis  arm  he  struggled  toward  the  gate  in  the 
very  midst  of  the  crowd.  It  seemed  to  him  as  if  heaven  was  per- 
forming miracle  upon  miracle  in  his  behalf,  tor  it  had  led  Dada  to 
liim,  and  she  wore  blue  favors,  and  to  his  question  as  to  what  this 
meant,  she  bad  replied:  "  For  your  sake,  and  because  1  like  your 
faith."  He  had  been  ready  to  drop  from  fatigue,  but  the  moment 
Dada  laid  her  arm  in  his  he  had  grown  fresh  again,  as  if  by  magic. 
It  is  true,  his  swollen  hands  hurt  him,  it  is  true  that  his  shoulder  . 
blades  many  a  time  contracted  painfully,  but  just  as  soon  as  he  felt 
the  pressure  of  her  arm  upon  his  and  met  the  joyful  look  of  her 
countenance,  as  she  turned  to  tell  him  how  happy  she  felt,  and 
listen  to  his:  "1  love  you,"  he  seemed  to  be  in  heaven,  insensible 
to  pam  and  discomfort.  The  pressure  of  the  throng  only  permitted 
them  to  exchange  a  lew  brief  words;  but  the  communications  that 
they  lield  with  one  another  through  mouth  and  eye  were  the  dearest 
and  sweetest  that  either  of  them  had  ever  experienced  in  all  their 
lives  before. 

Thus  they  came  through  the  gate  into  Canopian  Street,  but  there 
Dada  remarked  that  his  lips  had  lost  their  color,  and  a  slight  trem- 
bling shook  the  arm  in  which  hers  rested.  Then  she  asked  him 
what  had  come  over  him,  and  upon  his  failure  to  reply,  save  by 
pressing  his  left  band  to  his  brow,  she  drew  him  into  the  public 
garden  "which  stretched  out  on  her  right  hand,  between  the  little 
slddium  and  the  Meandrian  race  course.  In  the  grounds  which 
were  beautifully  laid  out  in  grass  and  beds  of  blooming  llowers,  she 
soon  found  an  unoccupied  bench,  behind  which  arose  a  semi-circular 
clump  of  tamarind  shrubs,  dispensing  a  deep  and  grateful  shade, 
and  here  she  compelled  him  to  lie  down.  He  did  not  resist  her 
eiTorts,  and  bis  piillid  cheeks  and  the  glassy  look  of  bis  eyes  taiigbt 
her  tliat  he  had  fallen  into  a  fainting-fit. 

How  exliausted  must  he  be  after  the  terrible  exertions  of  this  fore- 
noon, and  after  his  victory  he  had  been  handed  no  refreshing  drink, 
no  strengthening  bit  of  food. 

It  wns  so  natural  that  bis  strength  should  have  given  way,  and 
without  being  especially  anxious  about  him,  but  full  of  compassion 
and  the  wish  to  help,  she  jumped  \\\>  and  hurried  to  the  fruit-dealer 
whose  stand  she  bad  passed  between  the  garden  and  the  street. 

How  glad  she  was  that  she  still  owwxX  the  tour  drachmas  which 
she  bad'begged  of  Karnis  at  the  Xenodochium  of  Maria.  She  could 
now  make  purchases  tor  her  beloved  to  her  heart's  desire;  and 
when  she  came  back  to  him  with  oranges,  apples,  hard-boiled  eggs, 
salt  and  bread,  held  in  the  turned-up  skirt  of  her  dress,  and  a  small 
bottle  of  mixed  wine,  besides  a  goiud  in  her  free  hand,  sh(^  again 
found  \\\m  unconscious.  Alter  she  had  moistened  his  forebcail  and 
lips,  however,  be  o[)eued  his  ey<.«  :igain  and  then  she  peeled  oraniies 


SERAPIS.  191 

for  him  so  proltily  as  nobody  else  could  have  done,  and  invited  him 
to  help  himself — she  herself  boldly  eating  with  him,  because  she  was 
hiiugry  herself.  It  deliglited  her  that  he  was  her  guest,  and  that  he 
ate  her  modest  meal  with  relish,  and  tlfht  he  revived  again  so 
quickl}'.  Indeed  very  soon  he  was  ])euelrated  with  new  delight  and 
new  vigor;  and  now  as  he  leaned  far  back,  gazing  gladly  and  grate- 
fully into  Dada's  eyes,  an  unspeakable  sense  of  bliss  stole  over  him. 
He  thought  he  had  never  tasted  anything  half  so  good  as  this  fine 
meal,  brought  to  him  by  Dada,  nor  any  wine  halt  so  delicious  as  the 
poor  stuff  she  had  bought  of  the  fruit-dealer.  He  look  the  apple 
from  her  hand  and  ate  on  where  she  had  bitten  it  with  her  white 
teeth;  she  must  drmk  out  of  the  same  gourd  with  him,  and  as  each 
one  had  consumed  one  of  the  three  eggs  she  brought  with  her,  they 
disputed  over  the  third,  until  finally  he  yielded  and  consented  to 
take  it  as  part  of  liis  share. 

After  they  had  eaten  Dada's  purchase  to  the  last  morsel  she  asked 
him  for  the  first  time  where  he  expected  to  take  her,  and  he  replied 
that  she  would  be  a  welcome  guest  to  his  old  teacher,  the  Deacon 
Eusebiiis,  and  there  meet  again  her  old  companion  Agnes.  Tliis 
chai  med  her,  and  when  she  found  out  by  iiaving  lier  attention  aroused 
at  the  mention  of  a  "  deacon,"  that  her  future  protector  was  to  be 
the  same  venerable  man  whose  words  had  touched  her  heart  so 
deeply  at  St.  Mark's  church,  she  fold  Marcus  of  her  having  entered 
the  house  of  God,  and  how  much  more  peaceful  she  had  been  in 
mind  ever  since.  Something  had  come  over  her  entirely  new  there, 
and  since  then  she  had  been  longing  all  the  time  to  see  him  again  and 
talk  over  all  this  with  him;  what  she  had  learned  of  Christ'^s  teach- 
ings did  her  heart  good  and  raised  her  spirits.  The  world  was  so 
beautiful,  and  she  knew  there  were  more  good  than  bad  people  in  it. 
To  love  one's  neighbor  was  a  delight,  and  to  pardon  wrong  some- 
thiuij:  that  she  could  always  do.  It  must  be  so  pleasant  upon  earth 
if  everybody  feels  as  kindiy  to  his  neighbor  as  she  did  to  him  and 
he  to  her,  and  life  would  be  right  easy  if  in  every  trouble  one  had 
somebody  always  ready  to  listen  to  us  and  help  us  out  of  mere 
goodness. 

And  these  words  struck  Marcus  as  the  greatest  miracle  of  all  that 
had  been  worked  this  day  in  his  favor-.  The  soul,  which  heaven 
had  bidden  him  save  in  a  dream,  was  already  walking  in  the  path 
of  .'ialvation,  and  now  he  laid  before  her  many  a  thing  that  seemed 
peculiarlj'  exalted  and  glorious  in  his  faith,  an'l  finally  he  confessed, 
too,  that  he  loved  his  neighbor,  it  was  true,  tor  Christ's  sake,  but 
that  full  and  perfect  love  had  only  been  manifested  to  him  through 
her.  No  power  in  the  world  could  ever  part  him  from  her,  and  if 
she  had  received  baptism  their  love  might  endure  even  beyond  the 
grave,  so  long  as  endless  eternity  endures;  but  she  listened  to  him 
rapturously  and  said  that  she  was  his  own  and  would  remain  so  for- 
ever and  ever. 

To-day  there  wei-e  only  a  few  pei-sons  in  the  garden,  although 
commonly  at  this  hour  in  the  afternocm  it  was  thronged  wnh  tired 
]>eoplL'  and  children  with  their  nurses;  but  these  last  had  been  kept 
in  the  house  to-day  on  account  of  the  disturbances  apprehended  m 
the  street,  and  the  first  were  in  the  hippodrome  and  its  bustle. 
This  suited  the  lovers  precisely,  for  they  could  sit  hand  in  hand 


192  SERAPIS. 

and  look  into  cacli  other's  eyes,  yes,  as  old  T'habi's  (wlin  liad  lnii<?; 
lost  sii^lit  of  them,  and  finally  Ciime  up  with  them  again  in  tiic  public 
•^alliens)  drew  near  them,  he  saw  from  Jiis  hiding-pliice  how  his 
young  master  shyly  lool^ed  around  and  first  imprinted  a  kisrs  upon 
tiiu  singer's  curls,  then  upon  her  eyes,  and  finally  even  upon  her 
lips. 

tto  hours  passed  with  them  as  if  on  wings  amid  grave  discnuise 
and  deliglitful  ehit-chat,  so  that  when  at  last  they  gained  thtir  con- 
sent to  leave  this  quiet  retreat  it  was  already  twilight. 

So(m  they  again  found  themselves  in  Ciinopiau  Street  in  the  midst 
of  the  crowd  that  they  had  often  to  struggle  again^'t  now,  inasmuch 
as  the  (current  ot  home-comers  had  long  since  ceased  to  How,  and 
thousands  were  now  turning  their  faces  to  the  hippodrome  where 
there  were  lively  carryings  on.  Marcus  slackened  his  pace  as  lie 
was  passing  by  his  paternal  mansion,  pointing  it  out  to  Dada,  and  say- 
ing that  the  day  was  not  far  distant  when  she  should  be  introduced 
there. 

Suddenly  she  became  grave  and  whispered:  "  No.  no,  not  here, 
not  in  the  grand  palace  in  this  street.  We  would  like  to  live  in  a 
small  house  all  quiet  and  to  ourselves.  There  should  be  a  garden 
to  it,  too,  with  a  seat  where  we  might  rest  iuthesha.le.  Here,  here 
lives  VDur  mother  too!"  She  blushed  and  looked  down  as  she 
spoke;  but  he  suspected  what  was  going  on  in  her  mind,  and  begged 
her  only  to  have  patience,  for  if  slie  were  a  Chrislian,  Eusel>iu8 
would  intercede  for  her  directly.  Then  he  praised  his  mother's 
piety  and  goodness,  asking  Dada  if  she  had  not  seen  her  at  the 
races. 

"  Yes,"  answered  she  hesitatingly,  and  when  he  went  on  (o  ask 
if  she  did  not  think  Maria  beautiful  and  noble-looking,  she  replied 
candidly:  "  Yes,  certainly,  but  at  the  same  time  so  high  and  exalied 
that  she  must  want  quite  a  different  sort  of  a  daughter-  Jrom  a  pour, 
deserted  or])han  like  me,  a  singing-girl,  whom  nol)ody  i-espects. 
Jiut  to  you,  1  am  right  to  you  just  as  1  am,  and  you  know  that  1 
love  you.  If  1  do  not  find  my  uncle  again  tlien  1  liave  nobody  on 
earth  to  look  to  but  you;  1  need  nohody  else,  however,  for  you  are 
my  ail  in  all,  and  to  live  for  you  and  with  you  is  enough  tor  me. 
But  you  must  never  desert  me  else  1  shall  die!  You  dare  not.  for 
you  liave  told  nre  that  my  soul  is  dearer  to  you  than  your  own  life, 
and  it  1  have  you  and  your  love  1  shall  get  betier  and  better;  but 
if  you  allow  an>lliing  to  part  us,  1  shall  be  undone;  once  more,  you 
must  know  that  then  J  shall  be  nudone  body  and  soul!  1  do  not 
know  why  1  feel  so  distressed.  Let  us  hurry  by  this  house;  if  your 
mother  should  see  us!" 

lie  di.1  as  she  wished  and  sought  to  soothe  her,  while,  with  the 
blind  love  of  a  child  lie  praised  his  mother's  virtues.  But  she  only 
liarkened  witii  halt  an  ear  to  these  eulogies,  and  moreover  he  was 
soon  interrupted,  for  the  nearer  they  came  to  the  Rhakotis  the 
thicker  grew  ihe  tlirong,  and  henceforth  their  conversation  ceased 
and  they  could  only  think  of  working  their  way  forward;  but  sliU 
lliey  were  happy. 

In  this  manner  they  reached  Sun  Street,  one  of  the  princiixil  busi- 
ness tlii)MMiLi,hliii('s  of  the  city,  which  cut  C'anopian  Street  at  light 
auglcs,  and  I  hey  followed  it  to  the  city  wall  and  the  gale  ot  llelios 


SERAPIS.  193 

The  Serapeum  now  lay  to  their  right,  and  several  roads  led  to  it 
from  Sun  Street.  In  order  to  arrive  at  (be  little  street  where  Eiise- 
bius  lived  they  should  have  turned  into  Acropolis  Street,  but  through 
tliis,  and  over  tlie  city  ot  the  dead*  cam*  tearing  toward  them  a 
confused  mass  of  disorderly,  ruffian-like  men,  who  came  from  the 
Serapeum.     The  suu  was  already  approaching  tlie  western  horizon. 

iNow  Marcus  sought  to  escape  collision  with  such  desperadoes  and 
draw  Dada  to  the  corner  house,  but  in  vain;  for  the  multitude  pour- 
ing out  ot  Acropolis  Street  were  raving  like  madmen,  and  thought 
ot  nothing  save  the  trophies  of  which  they  had  possessed  themselves. 

In  front  of  a  great  car  which  served  otherwise  lor  the  transporta- 
tion ot  balconica,  columns,  and  blocivs  of  stone,  several  dozens  ot 
l)lacij  and  white  fellows  besides  a  few  women  and  monlis  had  har- 
nessed themselves,  and  were  drawing  through  the  streets  a  huge, 
shapeless  block  of  wood,  the  stump  ot  the  destroyed  image  ot 
Sera  pis. 

"To  the  hippodrome!"  "Burn  it!"  "Down  with  idols!" 
"  See  the  divine  body  of  Serapis!"  Such  were  the  cries  sent  torth 
in  tones  of  thunder  by  thousands  ot  lips  as  the  tumultuous  groups 
moved  on. 

Monks  had  dragged  from  its  niche  the  desecrated  stump  of  what 
had  been  Serapis,  pulled  it  through  the  temple  into  the  open  air,  and 
were  now  bearing  it  through  the  city  into  the  arena,  to  burn  it  there. 
Other  wearers  of  sheepskin  and  Christian  citizens  who  had  caught 
the  destructive  mania,  had  forced  their  way  into  tlie  sanctuary  of 
Anubis  adjacent  to  the  Serapeum,  had  thrown  down  from  the  altar 
and  destroyed  the  jackal-headed  idols,  the  Canopian  gods,  besides 
four  immense  vases  on  which  served  as  covers  the  head  of  a  man, 
an  ape,  a  sparrow- liawk,  and  a  jackal.  Now  they  bore  these  queer 
heads  ot  animals  before  them,  while  others  dragged  with  them,  on 
barrows,  or  carried  in  baskets  and  upon  then-  slioulders  dismem- 
bered limbs  of  statues  ot  Apollo,  Athene  and  Venus,  in  order  to 
cast  them  in  the  flames  at  the  hippodrome  with  the  wooden  stump 
Serapis. 

The  mob  had  broken  the  god's  noses,  smeared  the  marble  with 
pitch,  or  bedabbled  it  marvelously  with  red  paint  found  in  the 
writing-room  of  the  Serapeum.  Whoever  got  near  enough  the 
stump  or  any  other  piece  ot  the  broken  idol,  spit  upon  it,  beat  or 
punched  at  it,  and  hUherto  no  heathen  had  ventured  to  oppose  re- 
sistance to  such  carryings  on. 

Behind  the  oaken  heart  of  the  image  of  Serapis  and  those  other 
trophies  thronged  a  troop  ot  men,  women,  and  monks,  and  a  large 
r>i/')-uca-\;  (that  had  accidentally  crossed  their  track  and  become  en- 
tangled in  the  seething  mass  of  human  beings  that  extended  further 
than  the  eye  could  reach)  moved  along  witii  them  at  u  slow  pace. 
The  noble  horses  drawing  this  vehicle  had  to  be  led  and  held  in 
with  the  bit,  for  they  trembled  from  impatience  and  excitement, 
eometimes  trying  to  break  away  from  the  traces,  sometimes  to  rear. 

*  A  quarter  of  the  city  in  its  extreme  west,  appropriated  to  cemeteries  and 
catacombs. 

t  A  four-wlxeeled  carriage,  used  not  only  for  traveling,  but  as  a  meaus  of  lo- 
comotion iu  the  city  also. 


194  SERA  PIS. 

In  the  carrum  sat  the  merchant  Poiphynus,  who  had  recovered 
consciousness,  and  Gorgo. 

Constaniitie  had  remuiued  at  the  side  of  the  convalescent  until  the 
phj'siciau  Apuloius  had  declared  his  further  attentions  superlluous, 
ana  then  his  duty  had  calleil  him  away,  iin  had  received  the  an- 
nouncement of  his  daughter's  projected  union  with  the  former  Iriend 
of  her  childhood,  as  welcome  news,  long  expected. 

A  lew  of  the  prefect's  kniglits  iiad  been  ordered  to  escort  Por- 
phyrius'  carriage  to  the  trates  of  the  Serapeum,  and  .m  abbot,  with 
whom  Conslantine  had  become  acquainted  at  Arsinoe,  undertook  to 
see  that  the  mn'wc«  should  be  guarded  on  its  way  home,  and  pre- 
served from  the  attacks  of  tlie  raging  multitude. 

At  the  place  where  Acropolis  Street  joined  Sun  Street,  and  where 
Marcus  and  Dada  had  halted,  being  unal)le  to  go  backward  or  for- 
ward, just  as  the  carnage  got  therc%  a  body  of  armed  heathen,  meet- 
ing I  heir  deadly  foes,  fell  upon  the  Christians,  who  had  dared  heap 
insults  upon  all  that  the}'  held  most  sacred,  and  now  ensued  a  fierce 
straggle.  JN ear  to  the  young  Christian  a  heathen  struck  down  the 
bearer  of  the  soiled  head  of  a  Muse.  Dada,  in  termr,  piessed  close 
up  to  her  beloved,  and  he  began  to  be  serionsly  alarmed  for  her, 
when,  as  he  was  looking  out  for  some  means  of  safety,  he  perceived 
his  brother  Demetrius,  who  was  making  animated  signs  to  him,  as 
he  did  so  clearing  a  way  tor  him  through  the  crowd.  The  farmer 
also  exchanged  signs  with  the  occupants  of  the  carmen,  and  when, 
at  last,  he  got  to  Alarcus,  he  briefly  signified  to  him  that  Dada  must 
be,  first  of  all,  put  in  a  place  of  safety. 

Glad  to  escape  fiom  the  crowd  and  thedanger,  sLe  nimbly  climbed 
into  the  carriage,  and  after  she  had  cursorily  gieeted  father  and 
daughter,  beckoned  Marcus  to  follow  her;  but  his  brother  restrained 
him,  and  after  it  had  been  most  huiriedly  arranged  that  the  maiden 
should  be  brought  away  from  the  merchant's  honse,  in  the  evening, 
and  Demetrius  had  wnispertd  a  few  words  in  Gorgo's  ear,  com- 
mendatory of  the  singing-girl,  the  carriage  was  once  more  put  in 
motion. 

Among  the  heathen,  by  whom  this  was  now  surrounded,  many 
knew  the  noble  friend  of  Olympius,  and  made  way  tor  his  carriage, 
so  that  he  succeeded  in  reaching  unchallenged  Euergeten  Street, 
outside  ttie  city  wail,  which  gave  access  to  the  rear  of  the  Isis  tem- 
ple, the  dock  of  Clement  and  the  merchant's  mansion. 

Few  remarks  had  been  exchanged  in  the  carriage,  for  the  horses 
moved  forward  only  one  step  at  "a  time,  and  under  manifo'd  ditti- 
culties. 

It  had  grown  dark,  and  the  uproar  had  extended  to  the  usually 
quiet  and  retired  Euergeten  Street.  The  lurid  glare  of  flames  crim- 
soning the  night-sky  with  their  awful  splendor  showed  what  at- 
tracted the  multitude. 

The  monks  had  thrown  fire  into  the  Isis  temple;  by  a  north-west 
wiiul,  the  flames  had  been  ilriven  to  Ch^ment's  dock,  there  finding 
M'clcome  and  costly  nutriment  in  the  vast  stores  of  wood  and  hulks 
of  vessels  thens  laid  up.  From  the  work-shops  roared  and  crackled 
rich  jets  of  radiant  sparks,  emulating  the  light  of  the  early  stars. 

I'orphyriua  saw  that  his  house  hail  been  also  iu  peril,  but  thanks 


SERAPIS.  195 

to  the  circumspection  of  the  steward  and  the  untiring  diligence  of 
his  slaves,  it  had  been  untouched  by  the  flames. 

Meanwhile  the  brothers  liad  long  since  left  the  crowd  behind 
them. 

The  farmer  had  not  been  alone,  and  as  soon  as  he  had  made  his 
companion,  an  abbot  of  friendly  aspect,  acquainted  with  Marcus, 
he  gave  animated  e.xpression  to  his  joy  at  meeting  the  second  son 
of  Apelles,  the  man  who  had  saved  his  life. 

While  he  was  leading  Dada  to  Marcus  in  the  arena,  he  had  caught 
sight  of  Anubis,  vrno  had  attended  his  father  as  body-servani  to 
Syria,  and  never  been  heard  of  since.  Demetrius  had  pursued  the 
Egyptian  without  delay,  seized  him,  overpowered  him,  not  without 
danger,  and  then  had  him  put  in  the  prison  near  the  prefectuil. 
Here  Demetrius  had  succeeded  in  inducing  the  slave  to  speaii,  and 
from  his  communications,  it  had  been  brought  out  that  Apelles  had 
actually  fallen  in  battle  with  the  Saracens.  The  Egyptian  had  prof- 
ited by  his  master's  death  only  in  so  far  as  lo  run  off  with  his 
money.  The  slave  had  escaped  to  Crete,  and  there  bought  a  small 
estate  with  his  rich  booty,  and  had  now  returned,  moved  by  lon<T- 
ing  after  his  wife  and  children,  in  order  to  take  them  with  him  u> 
his  new  home. 

Finally,  in  order  to  confirm  the  truth  of  his  narration,  which 
cleared  him  of  having  murdered  his  mn.'ter,  and  therefore  merited 
little  faith,  he  stated  that  he  had  met  in  Alexandria,  the  day  betore, 
one  ot  the  monks  who  had  been  cognizant  of  his  master's  end;  and 
Demetrius  had  immediately  set  out'to  find  this  man  again  by  mak- 
ing inquiries  among  the  monks. 

In  this  he  had  speedily  succeeded;  and  Cosmas,  who  had  since 
then  been  elected  abbot  of  the  INitrian  brotherhood,  to  which  he  be- 
longed, now  also  told  Marcus  how  heroically  his  father  had  fought 
with  the  infidels  who  had  fallen  upon  his  caravan.  Apelles,"  he 
afiirmed,  had  saved  his  own  lite  and  those  of  two  other  anchorites, 
one  of  whom  was  likewise  in  Alexandria  at  this  time.  Seven  in 
number,  they  had  journeyed  from  Hebron  to  Aila,  had  put  them- 
selves under  the  protection  of  the  Alexandrian's  escort,  and  all  had 
progressed  excellently  until  they  had  been  attacked  by  infidel  Sara- 
cens, in  the  mountain  chain  south  of  Petra.  He  and  two  of  his 
companions  had  happily  made  their  escape  while  the  Alexandrian 
was  contending  with  tlie  infidels;  but  from  the  clifis  above,  which 
they  had  scaled  in  tlieir  flight,  they  had  seen  him  fall,  and  hence- 
forth always  mcluded  him  in  their  prayers.  It  would  fill  him  with 
joytul  satisfaction  to  do  his  part  in  procuring  for  a  man  like  Apelles 
the  place  due  him  on  the  list  of  martyrs. 

Full  ot  joyful  impatience,  Marcus  wanted  to  hasten  immediately 
to  his  mother,  and  tell  her  what  he  had  learned;  but  Demetrius  held 
him  back. 

The  bishop,  he  informed  the  youth,  bad  bidden  him  wait  upon 
him  that  he  might  congratulate  him  upon  his  victory;  it  was  his 
duty  to  accept  this  invitation,  and  forthwith  profit  by  the  favorable 
opportunity  of  securing  to  his  deceased  father  the  honor  rightfully 
his. 

It  seemed  strange  indeed  to  Marcus  that  his  brother  should  so 
heartily  interest  himself  in  a  cause  to  which  he  had  hitherto  shown 


19G  SEEAPIS. 

himself  so  averse;  however,  he  immetliatcly  repaired  to  (he  episco- 
pal palace,  in  company  willi  the  abbot,  and  after  the  f;irmer  bad 
wailed  for  them  a  half  hour  outside,  his  brother  rcappearecJ  tvith 
sparkling  eyes,  and  told  how  graciously  lie  had  been  received  by  the 
primate,  who  bad  thanked  him  for  Lis  victory,  and  bidden  him 
proffer  some  request.  Thereupon  he  had  immediately  thought  of 
his  father,  and  called  in  the  abbot's  testimony.  He  had  immediately 
heard  what  Cosmt.s  had  to  say,  and  then  Tlieophilus  had  declared 
himself  ready,  with  pleasure,  to  add  tlie  name  of  Apelles  to  the  list 
of  Syrian  martyrs.  The  bishoj)  had  ahva.ys  resistetl,  reluctantly, 
the  nrtrent  solicitation  to  that  ellect  of  so  good  and  active  a  Chris- 
tian as  iSIaria;  but  now  that  he  had  obtained  sucli  satislactory  testi- 
mony to  the  manner  of  her  husband's  dea'.h.  it  would  give  him  un- 
feiirned  satisfaction  to  accoid  tliis  highest  of  all  honors  to  the  victor 
and  his  excellent  mother.  "  And  now,"  continued  Maicus,  "  now 
I'll  run  borne,  and  with  what  joy  will  mother — " 

But  bis  brother  would  not  let  him  finish  his  sentence,  but  grasped 
him  by  the  shoulder  and  called  out,  "  Patience,  my  dear  boy, 
patience!  You  stay  by  me,  and  do  not  see  your  mother  until  1  have 
arranged  the  needful.  No  contradiction,  1  beg  of  you,  unless  you 
would  hinder  my  having  the  gratification  of  indemnifying  your 
pretty  litt'e  friend  for  gross  injustice  done  her.  Wiiat  "you  need, 
above,  all  things,  is  your  mother's  blessing;  and  do  you  think  lliat 
will  be  an  eas}^  thing  to  obtain,  my  boy?  Not  a  bit  of  it.  But  I  can 
and  will  procure  it  for  you,  provided  that  you  mind  me  and  consent 
to  having  ohi  Karnis'  niece  baptized." 

"  She  is  already  a  Christian!"  exclaimed  Marcus,  eagerly. 

Demetrius,  however,  continued  composedly: 

"  Then  she  is  yours  tomorrow^  if  you  submit  to  the  arrangements 
of  your  older  and  more  prudent  brother. 

"  That  can  not  fall  hardly  upon  you;  for  you  will  be  obliged  to 
admit,  that  if  1  had  not  wrestled  with  Auubis— the  lellow  snapped 
at  all  about  him  like  a  wounded  fox — 1  could  not  have  gotten  him 
into  custody;  and  if  1  had  not  run  my  legs  nearly  oft  me  searching 
after  the  worthy  abbot,  father  would  never  have  ol)tained  the  honor 
mat  is  at  last  his  portion.  Who  could  have  made  me  believe  that 
1  Should  ever  rejoice  over  tbat  crown  of  martyrdom?  Nothing  is 
impossible  wilh'tbe  gods,  and  1  think  the  manesot  the  deceased  will 
forgive  me  for  your  sake.  But  it  gets  ever  later,  and  so  only  this 
one  thincc  more:  as  for  myself,  1  claim  it  as  mj'  privilege  to  inform 
your  mother  of  what  has  come  to  pass,  and  for  your  part,  go  direct- 
ly to  Eusebius  and  ask  him  to  receive  Dada  ;it  his  house.  If  he 
consents— and  he  will— then  go  together  to  Uncle  Porphyrins'  and 
wail  there  for  me,  so  that,  if  all  goes  well,  1  may  accompany  you  to 
your  mother,  or,  it  otherwise,  to  Eusebius." 

"  Dada  go  with  me  to  mother!"  exclaimed  Marcus.  "  But  how 
will  she—" 

"  She  will  receive  her  as  a  daughter,"  interposed  his  brother,  "  il 
you  Keep  handsomely  to  yourself  what  has  liappened  until  1  give 
you  leave  to  speak.  There,  the  long  gale-keeper  Is  already  shutting 
up  the  episcopal  palace,  and  so  nothing  more  leaves  there  to-day  for 
the  cily.     An  ret'oir,  you  child  of  fortune!     I  am  in  a  tiurry!" 

So  saying,  Demetrius  departed,  leaving  unanswered  the  thousand 


SERAPIS.  197 

questions  witli  which  Marcus  was  ready  lo  besiege  him;  biii  il.e 
latter  repaired,  as  he  had  been  bidden,  full  ot  hope  and  _yet  not 
tree  Irommany  an  anxious  thought,  to  his  old  friend  and  preceptor. 


CHAPTER   XXVIl. 

While  Marcus  was  following  his  brother's  advice,  Dada  was  im- 
patiently awaiting  him  and  Euscbius. 

Gurgo  had  had  her  conducted  by  her  nurse  into  the  brightly- 
lighted  music-room,  sending  her  word  that  she  would  join  her  "there, 
as  coon  as  her  father's  condition  would  allow  her  to  leave  him. 
They  had  also  placed  refreshments  before  her,  which  consisted 
merely  of  dainties,  and  remained  untouched  belore  her,  for  it  struck 
her  that  the  rich  merchant's  daughter  was  purposely  avoiding  her, 
and  the  excitements  which  she  had  undergone,  and  a  sense  of  kme- 
liucss,  deprived  her  of  appetite. 

To  divert  her  thoughts,  she  examined  the  beautiful  oDjpcts  of  art 
all  around  her,  felt  the  material  with  which  the  cushions  were  cov- 
ered, and  touched  the  lute  thai  was  resting  agamst  the  pedestal  ot  a 
JMuse.  She  played  only  a  few  chords,  and  j-et  these  awalieued 
various  associations,  and  now  she  threw  herself  upon  a  divan  rest- 
ing in  a  less  brilliantly  lighted  corner  of  the  spacious  apartment, 
and  save  heiself  up  to  reverie.  She  tliought  over  the  varied  occur- 
rences of  the  last  few  days,  and  the  issue  seemed  to  her  too  beauti- 
ful to  be  actually  true.  Yes,  her  hopes  were  so  rich  and  precious 
that  she  trembled  lest  they  might  fail  ot  tulliilment,  yet  these  in- 
stants of  apprehension  were  few  and  brief;  for  her  young  heart  was 
full  ot  contidence,  full-winged,  so  that  if  a  ciualm  of  uneasiness 
held  it  down,  it  was  soon  again  soaring  aloft,  indulciug  in  the 
loftiest  aspirations. 

Overflowing  with  bliss  and  gratitude,  she  thought  of  Marcus  and 
his  love,  painted  her  own  future  with  him  at  her  side,  and  if  vexa- 
tion at  Gorgo's  nou-appearanCH,  solicitude  al)Out  the  fate  of  her 
family,  and  dread  of  her  lover's  mothei,  slightly  cloudea  her  soul, 
quickly  that  feeling  of  raptuious  delight  by  which  she  was  pos- 
sessed reasserted  itself.  Su  she  forgot  time  and  hour,  until  at  last 
Gorgo  joined  her. 

The  merchant's  daughter  had  not  purposely  avoided  the  singer; 
she  had  been  really  detained  in  attendance  upon  her  father.  Nec- 
essarily, the  tidings  had  now  reached  him  that  his  mother,  the  be- 
Joved  head  of  his  family,  was  no  longer  among  the  living.  By  the 
desire  of  his  physician  this  hart  been  kept  secret  from  liim  so  long 
as  he  tarried  in  the  Serapeum,  but  immediately  after  his  return 
home,  through  the  incaution  of  a  friend,  he  had  been  told  a  tale  of 
horror  that  had  filled  the  city  with  excitement  for  some  hours 
past,  and  almost  set  him  wild. 

The  merchant's  two  sons  were  at  Thcssalonica,  and  a  ship  com- 
ing from  there  had  brought  the  wcil-authenticateil  information  that 
fifteen  thousand  citizens  had  been  treacherously  murdered  in  the 
circus. 

Tlus  horrible  deed  of  blood  had  been  committed  by  soldiers,  at 
the  command  ot  the  Emperor  Theodosius,  who  had  cunningly  iix- 


198  SERAPIS. 

vited  the  unhappy  inliabilants  of  the  place  into  the  hippodrome,  in 
order  basel}^  to  slaup;hteT  them  there.  His  Gothic  general,  liotheric, 
had  been  murdered  by  the  populace  at  Tliessalonica,  and  the  em- 
peror had  bloodily  avenged  this  crime. 

P()ri)hyrius  knew  his  sons'  ways,  and  was  certain  that  they  were 
never  missing  where  any  spectacle  wiis  to  be  seen.  3Iost  assuredly 
they  were  among  the  spectators,  and  must  have  been  likewise  cut 
down  by  the  murderer's  sword.  Ills  mother  and  two  blooming 
children  had  been  torn  trom  him,  and  he  would  liave  again  had 
recourse  to  the  relief  promised  l)y  [)oison  if  a  feeble  ray  of  hope  Imd 
not  pointed  to  the  possibility  of  those  wliom  he  believed  dead  being 
yet  alive.  Nevertheless,  iiis  demeanor  was  that  of  one  desperate, 
who  has  lust  his  last  treasure. 

Gorgo  spokft  to  him,  sought  to  cherish  his  hope  that  her  biolhers 
niightyet  be  living,  leminded  him  of  the  phihisopher's  duty  to 
bear  calmly  the  strokes  of  fate;  but  he  did  not  listen,  and  in  the 
midst  of  bitterest  lamentations  burst  into  a  violent  rasre.  At  last 
he  desired  to  be  alone,  and  reminded  Gortro  of  her  duty  to  pay 
some  attention  to  Dada.  Thereupon  the  younjr  lady  acted  upon  his 
suggestion,  but  she  did  not  do  so  cheerfully;  for,  however  much 
good  she  had  heard  of  the  singing-girl  through  Demetrius,  she  stil) 
felt  a  little  shy  of  her. 

When  she  approached  it  was  to  accost  her  with  the  condescend- 
ing manner  of  one  who  enters  the  wretched  abode  of  poverty.  But 
her  father  was  right;  she  was  her  guest  and  must  be  treated  kindly. 

Before  she  entered  the  music-hall  she  wiped  oU  the  tears  she  was 
sheilding  for  her  brothers,  too  sacred  in  her  estimation  to  be  seen 
flowing  in  the  presence  of  a  crcaturq  who  had  transgressed  the  lim- 
its which  custom  prescribes  for  her  sex.  Appearances  led  her  to 
suppose  that  Dada  had  condescended  to  an  amour  with  her  cousin, 
hence  all  those  feelings  must  be  foieign  to  her  which,  following 
her  philosophical  instructor,  slie  would  denominate  "moral  ear- 
nestness "  and  "  striving  after  the  highest  things."  She  felt  herself 
greatly  her  superior;  but  it  would  not  have  been  magnanimous  to 
let  her  perceive  this,  and  so  she  advanced  to  meet  lier  graciously; 
but  Dada  responded  to  hei  salutation  without  cordiality  and  with 
constraint. 

"  1  am  pleased,''  began  Gorgo,  "  that  accident  has  brought  us  to- 
gether," and  Dada  replied  quickly,  "  1  think  that  1  have  your  fa- 
ther's goodness  to  thank,  and  not  accident." 

"  Yes,  he  is  good,"  answered  the  other,  purposely  taking  no  no- 
tice of  the  iriiiation  betrayed  in  the  singer's  words.  "  And  witLal 
these  last  liours  have  brought  him  unspeakable  sorrow.  \ou  have 
heard,  perhaps,  of  his  having  lost  his  mother.  You  knew  her,  and 
must  be  conscious  of  the  kindly  feelings  she  entertained  toward 
you." 

"  Do  not  speak  of  it!"  demurred  Dada. 

*'  Her  heart  was  hard  to  win,"  continued  Gorgo;  "  but  she  took  a 
fancy  to  you.  Do  you  doubt  it?  If  you  could  only  havj  seen  the 
carefulness  with  which  she  selected  that  gown  which  you  have  on, 
and  ornaments  to  matcli! 

"  Do  not  sjjeak  of  it!"  implored  the  other  once  more.  "  She  is 
dead,  and  1  freely  forgive  her;  but  she  did  not  mean  well  by  me." 


SEKAPIS.  199 

"  That  is  not  handsome  "  interposed  Gnrgo,  making  no  conceal- 
ment ot  the  indiiination  with  wliich  this  answer  tilled  her.  "  The 
departed  is  poorly  thanked  l)y  you  for  her  too  great  generosity." 

Here  Dada  shook  her  head  "in  tlie  negativerand  replied  firmly: 
'■  1  am  gratetul  for  the  very  smallest  favor;  people  have  rarelj'' 
enough  done  me  disinteresled  ffood;  but  once  for  all,  if  it  muse  be 
said,  she  wanted  to  make  use  ot  me  for  her  own  ends,  and  injure 
IVIarcus  and  his  mother  through  my  instrumentality.  And  you,  you 
nuist  know  this  too;  else  why  was  I  too  mean  to  sing  with  you  if 
you  did  not  believe  me  to  be  a  girl  of  light  character  disposed  to  do 
the  will  of  the  deceased?  All  the  world  takes  us  to  be  bad  just  be- 
cjiuse  we  are  sing^rti  by  profession;  but  vou  know  how  to  make  dis- 
tinctions, for  you  went  willi  Airnes.  If  you  would  not  insult  me 
say  no  more  about  the  gratitude  1  owe  the  deceased." 

Gorgo's  eyes  fell;  but  after  a  brief  pause  she  looked  up  again 
and  said: 

"  You  do  not  know  how  terribly  the  poor  thing  suflered.  Her 
sons  widow  inflicted  much  wrong  upon  her — such  bitter  wrong, 
thai  she  never  could  forgive  her;  and  so  you  are  probably  right  in 
your  supposition;  but  in  any  case  you  did  please  my  grandmother, 
and  now,  now  her  wish  is  gratified,  and  Marcus  has  found  you,  and 
loves  you  well,  too,  if  1  am  not  mistaken." 

"  If  you  are  not  mistaken!"  repeated  Dada,  with  animation: 
"  May  the  gods  prohibit  that!  Yes,  we  have  found  and  love  one 
another;  why  should  1  conceal  it?" 

"  And  Maria,  his  mother,  what  does  she  say  to  it?"  asked  Gorge. 

"  1  do  not  know!"  replied  Dada,  shyly. 

"  But  she  is  his  mother!"  exclaimed  the  other  impressively.  "  In 
opposition  to  her  will  the  wedding  will  never,  never  take  place. 
What  he  has  he  gets  from  her." 

"  And  she  may  keep  it,"  retorted  Dada,  eagerly.  "  The  smaller 
and  more  modest  the  house  to  which  he  takes  me  the  better.  I 
v/ant  his  love,  nothing  else.  His  designs  toward  me  are  good,  for 
he  is  not  like  the  rest,  and  does  not  love  me  just  because  he  thinks 
1  am  pretty.  1  follow  him  confidenlly,  and  of  the  honesty  of  his 
intentions  you  may  judge,  by  his  placing  me  under  the  care  ot  his 
■worthy  pastor,  Eusebius. " 

"  So  you  have  adopted  his  faith  as  yours?"  asked  Gorgo. 

"Certainly  i  have,"  answered  Dada;  but  the  other  continued: 
"  1  am  glad  of  (hat  for  Marcus'  sake;  and  one  would  gladly  be  ac- 
counted a  Christian  if  they  would  only  act  according  to  their 
creed.  But  only  behold  how  Ihoy  rage  and  destroy  everything  that 
is  beautiful.  What  say  you  to  that,  who  have  been  brought  up  by 
Karnis,  that  friend  of  the  Muses?" 

"  1?"  asked  Dada.  "  There  are  bad  people  everywhere,  and  if 
they  rage  against  the  beautiful,  I  am  sorry;  but  we  two  can  de 
light  in  it  afterward  as  we  did  before." 

■'  Well  for  you  that  you  can  shut  your  eyes,  and  see  only  as  love 
dictates!"  replied  Gorgo,  sighing  softly.  "  Those  people  are  to  be 
envied  vvlio  succeed  in  silencing  mind,  when  it  is  painful  to  liear 
lier  voice.  But  1  have  been  brought  up  to  think,  and  can  not  give 
up  reflection;  and  just  this  it  is  which  builds  up  a  barrier  between 
me  and  the  happiness  beckoning  to  me.     And  yet,  so  long  as  truth 


200  SERA  PIS. 

h  the  higbosl  tliintr,  I  shall  bless  Ihe  gift  of  searching  atter  her  wilh 
ail  the  facilities  of  the  mind.  My  betrothed  is  a  Christian  lilie 
yours,  and  1  wish  that  1  could  make  his  tailb  mine  as  easily  as  you 
do;  but  it  is  not  permitted  me  to  jumi)  into  the  water  atter  1  have 
perceived  it  to  be  full  of  waterspoulsand  whirlpouh.  But  the  ques- 
tion here  is  not  about  me  but  you.  Well!  Marcus  will  be  happy  in 
possessing  you;  but,  if  you  do  not  succeed  in  WMnning  Maria  to 
your  side,  "he  will  not  stick  to  you;  no,  indeed.  1  know  those 
Cliristians  well,  and  am  well  aware  that  there  is  no  peace  of  mind 
possible  to  them  in  marriage  without  a  parent's  blessing;  and  it 
Marcus  talis  to  receive  his  motber's  blessing  he  will  torment  him- 
self to  death,  and  grow  weary  of  life  as  though  he  had  committed 
some  great  crime." 

"  But  in  spile  of  all  that  you  say,"  interrupted  Dada,  "  he  can  be 
happy  just  as  little  without  me  as  1  without  him.  And  1,  1  have 
never  sued  for  any  man's  favor,  and  yet  everywhere  1  have  been 
treated  kindly.  AVliy  should  1  not  succeed  in  gaining  his  mother's 
afiection?  1  shall  put  forth  every  eflnrt  to  please  her,  and  it  must 
gratify  her  to  see  her  son  happy.  Eusebius  will  speak  a  word  to  her 
in  our  behalf,  and  she  will  assuredly  bless  us;  but  if  it  is  ordered 
diflerenlly,  and  1  may  not  be  his  wife  in  the  sight  of  man,  yet  1 
shall  just  as  little  desert  him  as  he  me,  even  though  he  should  lord 
it  over  me  as  if  he  were  my  master  and  1  his  servant." 

"  But  yon,  poor  thing,  do  you  know  nothing,  then,  of  the  dig- 
nity and  honor  of  the  wife?"  asked  Gorgo,  clapping  her  hands. 
*'  You  bewail  the  fate  of  public  singers,  and  the  hard  sentence  pro- 
nounced against  them  by  the  world,  and  what  a  sentiment  you  ex- 
press there!  It  sounds  like,  do  what  I  want,  or  I  despise  the  usages 
of  society!" 

At  this  D.ida  fired  up  and  eagerly  exclaimed:  "  Despise,  did  you 
say?  1  despise  the  usages  of  society,  did  you  say?  Oh,  no.  a  thou- 
sand times  no!  1  feel  myself  to  be  utterly  insignificant,  and  tiieie  is 
nothing  at  all  great  in  me,  and  because  1  know  that  1  do  not  pre- 
sume. Kever  in  my  life  have  1  ever  found  courage  to  despise  anvi 
body,  even  a  child.  "^  Out  now  there  has  been  awakened  within  me 
something -through  Marcus,  through  him  alone— something  that 
makes  me  strong;  and  if  1  see  that  manners  ami  customs  are 
leagued  against  me,  because  1  sung  in  public,  and  it  they  should 
withhold  from  me  what  is  nevertheless  my  right,  tlien  within  these 
few  hours  1  have  gained  courage  to  submit  patiently  to  the  issues 
of  life  and  death.  What  you  call  '  honor'  1  have  been  taught  to 
hold  and  guard  sacredly,  like  yourself,  and  1  have  preservedil  too 
as  jealously  as  any  girl  ever  diil  Not  as  if  1  were  doing  any  great 
thing  either;  but  you  have  no  idea  how  it  is,  when  any  man  who 
sets  up  to  be  sjreat,  deems  himself  justifieil  in  l)eing  impertinent  to 
you  and  trving  to  entrap  you.  lou  and  young  ladies  of  your  sta- 
tion lintl  il  quite  dillerent,  for  you  have  walls  and  defenses  thrown 
up  around  you.  We  are  deemed  fair  game  by  men,  while  you  arc 
approached  like  goddesses.  And  then!  1  have  not  heard  it  only 
from  Karnis — who  knows  the  world  and  people  of  fashion — no,  I 
liave  .seen  it  myself  at  Rome  in  senators'  houses,  where  there  were 
young  lords  and  ladies  in  jilenly,  for  1  keep  my  eyes  open:  among 
you  love  is  like  lul<(>warni  ivaler  in  the  bath,  but  us— it  cousumea 


SERAPIS.  201 

lis  like  fire.  The  Lesbian  Sappho  leaped  from  the  Leucadia  cliffs 
when  she  was  scorned  by  foolish  Phaon,  and  if  thereby  1  could 
eave  IVIarcus  from  evil,  1  will  follow  hei  example.  You  too  confess 
that  there  is  one  wlioni  you  love,  but  what  you  feel  for  him  can 
liardly  be  the  right  thing,  with  all  that  '  mind,'  '  reflection,'  at  least 
in  my  love.  I  know  nothing  of  any  '  if '  or  '  but,'  and  yet  however 
much  it  urges  and  presses 'me,  1  shall  patiently  wait  under  Euse- 
bius'  protection,  and  submit  to  whalever  may  be  prescribed  for 
me.  But  in  spile  of  all  Ihis  j-ou  pronounce  sentence  against  me,  if 
you— but  you— how  you  stand  there!  Oil,  how  you  Took  through 
me!— \ou—  just  so  you  looked  that  first  time  1  heard  you  sing,  and 
you— by  all  the  nine  Muses— you  yourself  belong  to  us  and  not  to 
that  other  cold-blooded  class;  you  are  as  much  and  more  of  an 
ailist  than  1  am,  and  if  the  right  iove  once  takes  possession  of  you, 
see  to  it  that  you  do  not  soar  further  above  custom  and  the  usages 
of  society  than  1  who  am  and  would  like  ever  to  remain  a  good, 
modest  girl,  in  the  furnace  of  whatever  fiery  trial!" 

Here  Gorgo  was  reminded  of  the  hour  in  which  she,  the  woman, 
had  ottered  as  a  free  gift  to  the  man  of  her  choice  what,  according 
to  the  code  of  custom,  could  be  granted  only  in  response  to  suit. 

Blushing,  her  eyes  tell  ixjfoic  those  of  the  poor  singing-girl,  and 
while  she  was  pondering  upon  a  suitable  answer,  the  sound  ot  men's 
steps  was  heard  approaching,  and  soon  there  entered,  first  Eusebius 
with  Marcus,  and  then  Gorgo's  betrothed. 

I'he  later  was  greatly  cast  down,  tor  at  the  burning  of  his  father's 
dock  his  second  brother  had  lost  his  life,  and  under  the  pressure  of 
such  a  calamity,  it  hardly  weighed  at  all  in  the  balance  that  his 
father  had  lost  a  consider:! Die  part  of  his  property  through  the  de- 
struction of  those  great  stores  of  lumber. 

Gorgo  had  met  liim  in  uncertaintv,  and  with  embarrassment;  but 
after  she  had  learned  what  had  befallen  him  and  his,  she  drew  up 
to  him  and  tried  to  console  huu.  Tlie  other,  likewise,  sympathiied 
in  his  affliction,  and  soon,  too,  a  ti;ne  for  weeping  came  to  Dada; 
for,  through  Eusebins,  she  learned  of  the  death  of  her  adopted  par- 
ents, and  Orpheus'  severe  wound. 

In  the  bright  music-room  there  was  naught  but  mourning,  until 
Demetrius  appeared,  in  order  to  fulfill  his  promise  and  conduct  his 
brother  and  Dada  to  Maria,  who  was  expecting  them. 

He  had  come  in  a  carriage,  for  he  asserted  that  his  legs  would  no 
lunger  carry  him.  Man,  said  he,  is  just  like  the  horse.  Aswilt- 
riding  nag  easily  gives  out  when  made  to  draw,  and  a  strong 
draught-horse  soon  tails  ■when  forced  to  run.  His  own  feet  are  no 
better  fitted  for  town-parements,  and  theconfusion,  racing  and  chas- 
ing wear  him  out  just  as  quickly  as  a  rapid  race  wouldaplo\v-hor.se. 
He  thanks  the  gods  that  this  day  is  over.  Not  until  to  nioirow  will 
he  have  strength  enough  to  enjoy  the  fruit  of  his  labors.  But  de- 
spile  this  assertion,  his  whole  person  beamed  with  the  satisfaction 
that  he  experienced  to  the  extent  that  his  manners  had  a  consoling 
effect  upon  the  afllicted  party,  eacli  of  whom  he  addressed  with 
cordiiilil}'. 

As  he  suggested  their  breaking  up,  Gorgo  once  more  kissed  Ihe 
singer.    As  soon  as  she  perceived  her  distress,  and  noticed  her  silent 


202  SERA  PIS. 

weeping,  she  had  hurried  to  her  side  and  embraced  her  as  if  she  had 
been  a  sister. 

Constauline,  Gorgo,  and  old  Eusebius  were  left  alone,  and  the 
younii  lad}'  loured  to  unburden  her  overflowing  heart.  She  had 
indeed  promised  her  betrothed  to  tollow  liim  to  his  afflicted  par- 
ents; but  thus  she  could  not  and  would  not  present  herself  before 
the  Christian  pair,  beseeciiing  their  blessing.  Tlie  last  occurrences 
hud  poisoned  lier  joj'  in  the  new  faith  to  which  she  had  so  hopefully 
resorted;  and  althougli  itpained  lier  tocost  Conslauliue  Iresh  trouijle, 
whose  burdens  weie  hf-avy  enough  without  this  additional  weight, 
yet  both  duty  and  tlie  love  of  Tnith  bade  her  give  him  an  insight 
into  her  soul,  laying  bare  before  him  the  doubts  and  scruples  which 
liad  been  pouring  m  upon  her  during  these  last  hours. 

Ihe  presence  of  the  venerable  priest  was  welcome  lo  her,  for  it 
Wis  her  wish  to  become,  inwardly,  a  convert  to  Christianity;  and 
no  sooner  did  she  find  herself  alone  with  him  and  Coustantine,  than 
she  poured  out  before  them  the  complaints  which  she  had  to  make 
against  their  fellows  in  the  faith.  Crime  upon  crime  hatl  been  com- 
mitted by  Christians.  They  had  destroyed  the  creations  of  art  with 
fiendish  shouts  of  malice.  There  lay  in  aslies  the  temple  of  Isis, 
and  here  the  dock,  destroyed  by  Christian  incendiaries;  her  tears 
were  not  yet  stanched,  and  they  flowed  for  her  Christianly  disposed 
brothers,  slaughtered  in  company  with  thousands  of  innocent 
heathen  and  fellow-believers  by  the  same  emperor  wdio  styled  him- 
self the  rock  and  most  faiiliful  follower  of  the  Saviour's  teachmgs, 
and  whom  Coustantine  had  often  praised  as  a  wise  monarch  and 
pious  Christian. 

When,  at  last,  she  had  closed  her  heavy  accusations,  she  called 
upon  Coustantine  and  the  priest  to  justify  the  actions  of  their  party, 
and  give  back  to  her  spirit^to  confess  a  tailh  that  permits  such 
ciiuus. 

But  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  sought  to  palliate  such  proceed- 
ings, and  Conslantine  acknowledged  that  all  tliis  flew  directly  in 
tlie  face  of  that  high  love,  which  his  faith  required  from  its  pro- 
lessors.  The  hud  servant,  cried  he,  has  committed  bad  actions, 
which  ai'c  directly  opposed  to  the  spirit  and  regulations  of  his  mas- 
ter's household. 

But  this  acknowledgment  did  not  at  all  satisfy  Gorgo,  who  now 
maintained  that  the  master  must  be  judged  by  his  servanis'  con- 
duct; she  herself  hid  only  turned  her  back  on  tile  old  <rods.  because 
of  her  supreme  contempt  for  their  worshipers;  but  now  she  had  been 
an  involuntary  witness— the  deacon  must  pardon  her — of  the  fact, 
that  many  Christians  exceeded  even  those  wretches  in  the  abomina- 
tions of  which  they  were  guilly,  as  well  as  brutal  coarseness  and 
barbarity.  Such  experiences  filled  her  with  distrust  of  the  faith 
which  she  was  about  to  adopt,  and  her  soul  felt  shaken  to  its  very 
foundations. 

Eusebius  had,  so  far,  listened  to  her  in  silence,  but  now  he  drew 
nearer  to  her  and  asked  her,  in  gentle  tones,  it  she  would  deem  it 
right  to  drain  the  bed  of  the  bountiful  Nile,  and  leave  it  dry,  be- 
cause, occasionally,  were  destroyed  in  its  overflow  houses  and  the 
products  of  the  field? 

"  These  days,  these  deeds  uf  shame,"  continued  he  sadly,  "  soil 


SERAPIS.  203 

the  pure  and  noble  book  of  our  faith's  history,  and  whoever  is  a 
true' Christian  must  bitterly  bewail  the  excesses  ol  the  rude  multi- 
tude. The  emperor's  shameful,  bloody  deed  will  also  be  condemned 
by  the  church;  it  throws  the  darkest  stain  upoa  his  lionor  and  his 
lair  fame;  moreover,  his  own  conscience  will  (ash  him.  Far  be  it 
from  me  to  defend  what  is  not  to  be  justified--" 

"  But  all  this,  "interposed  (iorgo,  "  alters  in  nothing  the  fact,  that 
with  you  wicked  deeds  are  just  as  possible  and  iTequent  as  with 
those  whom  1  shall  now  cease  to  cull  my  people,  r.r:d.  who — " 

"And  from  whom,"  interrupted  ConstantiiiO,  "  yOu  uid  not  in- 
tend to  separate,  Gorgo,  merely  on  account  of  their  Gemeanor. 
Your  animosity — confess  it,  maiden — makes  you  unjust  to  your 
self,  and  your  "own  heart.  Not  out  of  contempt  for  vicious  ami 
miserable  friends  of  the  old  gods,  l)ut  out  of  love,  I  hope  and  believe, 
you  consent  to  share  my — our  faith." 

"Well,  well,"  said  she  with  animation,  thinking  blushingly  of 
the  doubt  raised  by  the  singei  as  to  the  genuineness  of  Her  love. 

"  Well!  Out  of  love  for  you,  out  of  love  for  love  and  peace,  1 
consented  to  become  a  Christian;  but  what  1  see  done  by  your  peo- 
ple; say  yourself,  and  1  ask  you,  loo,  reverend  father,  whence 
originates  it— in  hatred  or  love?" 

"Hatred!"  answered  Constnntine,  dispiritedly;  and  Eusebius. 
added,  with  troubled  mien:  "In  these  momentous  days  our  faith 
shows  itself  in  a  shape  utterly  foreign  to  its  nature,  noble  young 
lady.  Trust  my  words!  Have  you  not  learned  already  in  your 
young  life  that  just  what  is  greatest  and  highest  becomes  the  vilest 
in  its  exaggeration?  Let  noble  pride  transgress  propei  limits,  and 
it  becomes  unscrupulous  ambition;  tlie  lofty  virtue  of  humility 
trenches  on  the  unworthy  exhibition  of  self-will,  a  spirit  of  untiring 
energy  tempts  to  that  mad  chase  after  fortune  in  whicb  is  trodden 
down  all  that  interferes  with  its  attainment.  What  is  sweeter  than 
the  tender  mother;  but  when  she  does  battle  for  her  child  she  is 
trnnsformed  into  a  tigress.  Thus  faith,  that  comforter  of  the  heart, 
changes  imo  a  raging  monster  when  it  degenerates  into  fanaticism, 
Would  you  learn  to  know  what  Chrislianity  is,  you  must  neither 
look  at  the  misguided  mob  and  the  ambitious,  who  are  seeking  to 
gratify  their  own  selfish  aims,  and  following  the  dictates  of  passion, 
nor  even  up  to  the  throne,  where  power  transmutes  the  impulse  of 
an  unhappy  moment  into  fatal  deeds.  Would  you  know  what  pure 
acd  genuine  Christianity  is,  then  enter  the  domestic  circle,  and  btJ- 
hold  the  families  of  true  believers.  1  know  them,  tor  my  humble 
office  leads  me  into  daily  and  hourly  converse  with  them.  You 
must  look  upon  them  if  you  intend  to  bestow  your  hand  upon  a 
Christian,  and  with  nim  raise  up  a  family  altar.  There,  child,  there 
you  will  see  the  blessed  fruits  of  our  Saviour's  teachings,  there  will 
you  find  love  and  harmony,  mercy  toward  the  poor,  pious  zeal  and 
unfeigned  forgiveness  of  injuries  endured.  There  have  1  seen  the 
Christian  devote  his  last  possession  to  the  service  of  his  unfortunate 
adversary,  the  enemy  of  his  bouse,  whether  heathen  or  Jew,  because 
such  are  men,  and  because  we  must  feel  our  neighbor's  sorrows  as 
our  own.  There  you  will  find  disposition  to  do  every  good  thing,  a 
never  withering  hope  of  better  days  in  future,  when  suffering  sever- 
est trials,  and  if  death  claims  some  dear  one  or  beckons  to  ourselves. 


204  SERAPIS. 

lliere  is  a  firm  confidenoc  in  the  forgiveness  of  our  sins,  tbrougli  Ihe 
grace  of  Clirisl.  Believe  me,  tlieu,  dear  joung  lady,  there  is  no 
happier  hon.e  than  the  Chrisliim's;  tor  wLoevcr  has  a  true  knowl- 
edte  ot  our  Saviour  and  his  doctrines  need  not  be  miserable  lieie  in 
order  to  be  made  partaker  ot  heavenly  bliss,  and  gain  admittance 
into  the  bright  world  above.  On  tlie  contrary,  He  who  called  sin- 
ners to  Ilimsell,  who  drew  little  children  to  his  heart,  who  pre- 
ferred the  poor  l)etore  the  rich,  wlio  was  a  cheerful  gutst  at  the 
marriage  fe:lst,  who  1)ade  us  put  his  spiritual  pound  out  at  inttrest, 
the  same  commanded  us  to  remember  him  at  the  social  meal;  He 
who  opened  our  hearts  to  love,  has  desired  to  rid  earthly  existence 
ol  every  possible  pain  and  lack.  Where  love  and  peace  reign,  must 
there  not  be  happiness?  And  since  He  has  preached  nothing  more 
emphatically  than  love  and  peace.  He  can  not  have  meant  us  volun- 
tarily to  darken  life  upon  earth,  and  burden  ourselves  with  wretch- 
edness in  order  to  l)e  tit  tor  happiness  hereafter.  Every  one  who  is 
conscious  of  being  one  with  Him  feels  himself  freed  from  guilt  and 
misery,  even  here  below;  for  Jesus  has  taken  upon  Himself  all  the 
sin  and  suflering  of  the  world;  and  if  Fate  punishes  the  Chiistiau, 
too,  with  heaviest  strokes,  yet  he  bears  them  meekly  and  patiently. 
Our  Lord  is  love  itself;  He  knows  neither  hatred  nor  envy,  like  the 
heathen  gods,  and  it  He  punishes  us,  He,  the  mild,  omniscient  dis- 
ciplinarian, does  it  tor  the  best  jrood  of  our  souls.  The  all-wise  God 
knows  wherefore,  and  the  Christian  submits  with  the  docility  of  the 
little  child  to  the  wise  father,  on  whose  goodness  he  may  always 
rely,  and  he  even  comes  to  thank  Him  for  pains  and  sufferings,  as 
it  they  were  benefits." 

Here  Gorgo  again  shook  her  head  and  replied: 

"  All  that  sounds  noble  and  lieautiful;  and  it  is  required  of 
Christians,  and  certainly  exemplified  sometimes.  But  the  stoics 
demanded  the  same  from  their  disciples,  and,  Conslantine,  3'ou  used 
to  know  the  Stoic  Damon,  and  remember  how  sternl}^  he  required 
others  to  rise  proudly  above  pain  luul  distress.  But  when  his  only 
daughter  lost  her  eye-sight— she  is  a  friend  of  mine— he  behaved 
like  a  madman.  In'  earlier  days  my  father  also  recommended  phi- 
losophy to  you,  as  a  means  for  rising  superior  to  the  crosses  of  life 
and  the  tricks  of  Fate.  And  now?  You  should  only  see  my  poor, 
dear  father.     What  good  do  all  these  lofty  maxims  do  him  now?" 

"  He  has  lo.st  much,  very  much,"  remarked  Constantine  with  a 
slight  sigh,  heaved  for  the  loss  of  his  own  brother.  But  Eusehius 
shook  his  head  gently  anil  said,  "  In  such  sorrow,  neither  philoso- 
phy nor  reasoning  helps.  Whar  has  hurt  the  sonl  can  be  cured 
only  through  the  soul,  not  the  mind  or  any  ot  its  argumentation. 
Faith,  child,  is  the  most  efficacious  l)alsam  to  apply.  The  reason 
is  its  enemy;  yet  from  the  soul,  its  fountain,  it  extracts  nourish- 
ment; and  let  the  wound  from  which  a  believer  is  bleeding  be  ever 
so  deep,  it  can  supply  balm  wherewith  to  close  and  heal  it.  You 
have  learned  to  exercise  a  rich  mind,  to  rest  everything  upon  it,  and 
abide  by  its  deoiBions.  The  knowledge  that  you  have  gained 
through  arguments  and  conclusions  is  the  highest  and  last  thing 
witli  you:  but  besides  intellect  the  Lord  has  implanted  spirit  within 
us.  and  it  stirs  and  moves  in  its  own  ways,  and  the  knowledge  to 
wliich  it  attains— even  that,  dear  child,  is  faith.     You  love,  my 


SEUAPTR.  305 

(laughter;  and  love,  tno.  pertains  to  the  spirit;  and  1  should  like  to 
advise  you  uol  to  mis  up  tliJit  thiukiDi;  mind  witii  love,  as  it  does 
not  belouf^  to  it.  but  nourish  and  clierisli  it  from  your  own  rich 
spirit;  only  in  that  case  will  it  thrive  beautifully  and  harmoniousl3\ 
"  Here  1  must  malvc  an  end  of  n:y  talli.  for  1  have  already  kept 
the  wounded  from  the  Serapeum  waiting  too  long.  If  it  so  pleases 
you.  hereafter  1  shall  expound  to  you  Christianity  in  all  its  depth 
and  beauty;  and  your  love  for  this  brave  man  will  enlist  your  heart 
in  behalf  of  my  teachings.  Then  a  day  will  come  when  you  will  as 
graciously  heed  the  voice  of  the  spirit  as  hitherto  the  requirements 
of  intellect,  and  something  quite  new  will  spring  up  within  you 
that  you  will  esteem  more  liighly  than  ever  you  did  your  richest 
mental  acquisitions.  And  this  day  will  surely  come  for  you,  be- 
cause he  yonder  has  guided  you  into  the  path  that  leads  to  the  por- 
tals ot  truth:  and  since  3'ou  seek  wisdom,  you  will  find  it. 

"  For  tlie  present,  farewell!  If  you  need  the  teacher,  just  come 
to  him.  and  1  know  he  will  not  have  to  wait  for  you  long." 

Gorgo  looked  after  the  old  man  thoughtfully,  and  lhe"n  followed 
Constantine  to  his  parents. 

Silently  the  two  traversed  the  short  distance  sepiirating  the  man- 
sions, and  silently  they  entered  the  house. 

From  the  vestibule  issued  rays  of  light.  The  curtains  before  the 
tall  door  stood  open;  and  as  they  approached  the  threshold,  Con- 
stantine pouited  to  a  hier  that  stood  by  the  flower-bed  in  the  middle 
of  this  open  court,  and  to  his  parents,  who  knelt  beside  it. 

Neither  of  the  two  ventured  to  disturb  then-  silent  devotions;  but 
now  the  master  ship-builder  arose,  drew  up  his  tall  form  erect,  and 
turned  his  manly,  benignant  countenatice  to  his  wife,  who  now  also 
stood  up.  ffe  drew  one  hand  through  his  abundant  hoary  locks, 
and  held  out  to  her  his'right  hand.  Mariamne  clasped  it,  looked  at 
him  lovingly,  and  as  she  wiped  away  her  tears,  he  said,  firmly  and 
calmly,  "  The  Lord  gave  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away!" 

Then  she  sunk  upon  his  breast,  and  added,  in  low,  fervent  tones, 
"  Blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord!" 

"  \es.  blessed  be  his  name!"  repeated  Clement,  aloud,  and  im- 
pressivel3%  as  at  the  same  lime  he  drew  his  arm  over  his  eyes. 
"  Thirly-two  years  has  God  spared  him  to  us.  and  in  here  "—and  he 
pointed  to  his  broad  breast—"  in  here  He  will  live  on  for  yoirand  for 
nie.  That  other  loss — much  property  of  my  own  and  others  was 
comprised  in  that  lumber — that  other  loss  can  be  made  up  for  in 
the  course  of  years.  Let  us  thank  the  Most  High  lor  fpariog  us  so 
much!" 

Then  Gorgo  felt  the  pressure  of  her  lover's  hand,  and  understood 
what  it  signified,  and  she  drew  fondly  up  to  him  and  whispered, 
"  That  is  great,  that  is  true!" 


CHAPTER  XXN^llL 

In  the  great  mansion  on  Canopian  Street,  they  were  likewise  slov 
in  retiring  tonight.  Even  Demetrius,  the  fanner,  in  spite  of  his 
fatiiiue,  had  been  unfriie  to  his  habit  of  relirinii' early  forest;  he  had 
to  see  the  grain  mature  tli;.t  he  had  sown  lor  his  brother. 


20G  SERA  PIS. 

It  had  been  no  light  task  to  incUne  Maria  to  accede  to  lifa  wishes, 
but  he  liad  fumlly  prevailed  to  l)is  satisfaction. 

He  had  been  ill  received,  indeed,  when  be  had  begun  with  sound- 
ing Dada's  praises,  and  had  proclaimed  liis  desire  to  see  her  married 
to  iMarcus;  but  in  all  calmness  he  had  moved  toward  his  goal  a  siep 
at  a  time,  and  after  he  disclosed  tlie  tact,  that  he  had  it  in  his  power 
to  obtain  the  martjT's  crown  for  lier  deceased  husband  Apellcs,  it 
had  come  to  insinuations  and  open  accusations  of  iiisiuccrilj'  from 
her  side;  oaths  had  been  requited  of  him,  and  threats  made  against 
him  of  both  heavenly  and  earthly  punishments;  but  he  had  calmly 
let  the  storm  blow  over  his  head,  had  sworn  as  required,  pledging 
not  only  the  salvation  of  his  soul,  but  his  worldly  goods  as  well, 
until,  convinced  of  his  power  to  obtain  for  her  the  warmest  desire 
of  her  lieart,  she  had  become  more  accessible  and  assumed  an  altered 
deportment. 

I3ul  tlien,  in  her  vacillation  and  perplexity,  he  had  not  attempted 
to  assist  her  by  even  bo  much  as  one  word;  leaving  her  to  fight  out 
her  own  hard  battle,  looking  on,  not  without  malicious  enjoyment 
in  the  same,  but  likewise  with  some  solicitude,  until  the  first  decisive 
question  was  addressed  to  him. 

She  had  refeired  to  his  having  fold  her  previously  of  Dada's  de- 
termination to  receive  baptism,  and  after  she  had  been  certified  by 
his  answer,  that  the  maiden  was  dispose  1  to  become  a  Cliristian,  she 
had  gone  on  to  say:  "  And  is  it  Marcus  who  has  won  her  for  the 
failh?" 

"  He,  he  alone." 

"  And  you  swear  that  you  deem  her  a  pure  and  mo.lest  girl?" 

*'  Gladly,  and  in  the  full  conviction  thai  1  speak  tiuthl" 

"  1  have  seen  her  m  the  arena.  She  is  beautiful  and  uncommonly 
graceful;  and  Marcus?" 

"  He  has  set  his  whole  heart  on  the  girl,  and  1  know  that  she 
reciprocates  his  affection  sincerely  and  disinterestedly.  And  then. 
1  need  hai'dly  remind  j^ou,  that,  in  this  city,  among  the  most  distin- 
guished ladies  of  oar  acquaintance,  there  are  those  whose  origin  is 
mucn  more  questionable  than  tliat  of  your  scon's  lady-love,  for  she 
belongs  to  a  tree,  unimpeachable  famil^y.  Her  unclt's  kindred  he- 
lomi  to  the  first  people  in  all  Sicily;  jet  that  need  trouble  us  but 
little,  for  the  wife  of  Philip's  grandson  would  have  respect  p;iid  her 
if  slie  were  only  a  freedman's  daughter." 

"  1  know,"  Maria  had  murmured,  as  though  all  this  was  of  slight 
Bignifieance  to  her;  but  then  she  had  sat  si  Hi  a  long  nliilo,  but  at 
last  opened  her  eyes,  and,  in  a  voice  that  betotvcned  the  biitlle  wliich 
had  been  waged  in  her  spirit,  and  was  not  yet  completely  won,  she 
exclaimed:  "  What  shall  1  ask,  then,  more  than  my  child's  happi- 
ness? In  the  Lord's  sight,  we  aie  all  alike— small  and  great;  but  1 
am  only  a  tveak  woman,  full  ot  imperfections  and  fi-ebleuess;  jinil  1 
could  have  wished  a  different  alliame  than  this  for  the  only  son  of 
a  noble  house.  So  1  say  now:  1  regard  this  connectiim  as  a  humilia- 
tion which  the  Most  High  imposes'upon  me.  but  1  grant  it  my  bless- 
ing, and  do  so  out  of  a  full  heart,  it  llie  bride  brings  with  lier  as  a 
dowry  the  one  thinir  that  for  him,  ;is  for  me.  must  croivn  his  every 
wish,  viz.,  t;ie  eternal  salvation  ot  Aiielles.  The  martyr's  crown 
opens  for  him,  who  was  your  father,  as  well  the  gates  of  Heaven, 


SERA  PIS.  207 

Procure  it  for  him,  and  1  shall,  with  my  own  hand,  bestow  the 
singer  upon  my  son!" 

"  That  is  a  bargain,"  cried  the  countryman,  and  soon  after  mid- 
night he  had,  at  last,  gotten  to  rest;  for,  in  his  presence  Maria  had 
led  the  singer  up  to  her  son,  and  imparted  to  the  betrothed  her 
motherly  blessing 

A  few  weeks  later,  together  with  Gorgo,  Dada  was  baptized,  and, 
at  the  same  time,  received  the  name  of  Cecilia.  In  compliance  with 
Maria's  wish,  the  nuptials  of  the  young  pair  were  solemnized  by  the 
bishop  himself. 

In  spite  of  the  lavish  proofs  of  more  than  a  motherly  tenderness 
with  which  the  widow  overwhelmed  her  daughler-inlaw,  Dada  felt 
chilled  and  embarrassed  in  her  vicinity,  and  in  the  grand  mansion 
on  Canopiau  Street. 

lYhea,  therefore,  a  few  weeks  after  their  marriage,  Demetrius,  in 
her  presence,  proposed  to  her  husband  that  he  should  assume  the 
managenieuf.  of  their  family's  property  in  Cyrenaica,  she  caught  at 
the  idea  with  enthusiasm,  and  Marcus  quickly  made  up  his  mind  lo 
adopt  Ihe  suggeslion,  after  Demetrius  had  promised  to  go  with  him 
and  assist  him  during  the  first  years  by  counsel  and  co-opeiatiou. 

Their  dread  lest  their  mother  might  offer  earnest  objection  to  this 
plan  had  been  vain;  for,  although  Maria  declared  life  would  be  a 
burden  to  her  without  her  children,  she  quickly  yielded  to  her  son's 
desire,  and  called  it  rational  and  good. 

She  did  not  dread  the  loneliness;  tor,  as  the  widow  of  the  martyr 
Apclles  she  now  stood  first  among  the  Cliristian  ladies  in  the  city, 
and  preferred  no  longer  to  confine  herseit  to  the  narrowness  of  the 
domestic  circle.  To  visitors  she  constantly  expatiated  upon  the 
charms  of  her  daughter-in-law  Cecilia,  praising  lier  beaut3%  pi^ty. 
and  amiability;  yes,  she  even  made  it  appear  as  if  she  herself  had 
selected  Dada  as  Marcus'  wife.  But  Maria  did  not  detain  this  "  be- 
loved daughter"  in  Alexandria;  for,  at  all  public  assemblies  to 
which  ladies  were  admitted,  the  noble  widow  of  him  who  had  sealed 
his  faith  with  blood  held  pre-eminence,  whether  or  not  the  former 
singer  was  in  her  company. 

The  youthful  pair  journeyed  to  Cyrenaica.  Dada  learned  to 
manage  upon  her  husband's  great  estates  with  sound  sense  and  ac- 
ceptability. Out  ot  the  lively  professional  singer  developed  an  ac- 
complished housewife;  out  of  Marcus,  the  ideal  lover  of  horses,  a 
diligent  farmer.  His  brother  Demetrius  had  remained  with  hitu 
tliree  years  as  counselor  and  guide;  and  when  afterward  he  visited 
him,  as  was  frequently  the  case,  he  used  to  remark,  to  the  happy 
jMarcus:  "  In  Alexandria  1  am  a  heathen  out  and  out,  but  in  your 
Cecilia's  house  it  is  a  plciisure  to  be  a  Christian." 

Bet  ore  their  departure  a  heavy  misfortune  had  overtaken  the 
gray-haired  deacon  Eusebius.  The  sermon  which  he  had  preached 
just  before  the  fall  of  Serapis,  in  order  to  calm  his  congregation, 
and  point  cut  to  them  the  right  way,  had  been  misconstrued  by 
some  fimatical  clergymen  present,  and  by  them  represented  to  the 
bishop  as  favorable  to  paganism,  and  blasphemous.  Theophiius  had 
intrusted  the  in  vest  iiration  of  this  affair,  and  ot  the  deacon's  oithodoxy 
to  his  zealous  nephew  and  later  successor,  Cyril.  In  so  doing  it  had 
come  to  liglit,  also,  that  he  hud  not  only  furnished  shbllcr  to  the 


20S  SEKAPIS. 

Arian  Agnes,  but  intrusted  her  with  the  nursfng  of  orthodox 
])alieutR,  and  so  heavy  penances  had  been  imposed  upon  the  vener- 
able old  ecclesiastic  by  youuy;  Cyril.  MoTeover,  Thenphilus  bad 
decided  tliat  he  should  be  relieved  of  his  clerical  oflice  in  the  city 
"  where  stronger  minds  were  needed,"  and  onl)'  allowed  the  care  of 
souls  in  some  country  conmiunity. 

It  was  hard  ior  the  aged  couple  to  leave  the  house  and  little  garden 
where  they  had  been  hai)i)y  for  thirty  years;  but  they  were  soon  in- 
demuilicd  in  a  handsome  manner;  tor  Marcus  summoned  his  worthy 
spiritual  guide  to  be  priest  on  his  estates.  The  churches  which  he 
had  built  in  his  villages  here  were  dedicated  by  old  P^usebius, 
whose  mild  teacliings  and  frit-ndlylove  tor  their  souls  induced  many 
peasants  and  slaves  to  be  baptized.  But  yet  greater  influence  than 
his  preaching  was  exerted  by  the  persuasions  and  example  ot  their 
young  mistress.  ]\Ian  and  woman,  bond  and  free,  loved  her, 
honored  her,  and  thoutrht  that  to  do  as  she  did  could  only  bring 
honor;  certainly  could  be  nothinc:  else  than  good  and  kind. 

Thus,  the  teniples  and  sanctuaries  on  the  land  of  the  martyr's  son 
had  been  deserted  voluntaiily,  without  force  or  threatening,  and 
soon  went  to  decay.  And  as  it  happened  on  Marcus'  estates  so  did 
it  on  those  of  the  Prefect  Constanlinc.  These  were  situated  only  a 
day's  journey  away  from  Marcus'  domain,  and  the  two  land- 
owners were  friends  and  good  neighbors.  What  C'onstantine  called 
his  had  belonged  to  the  Libyan  Barcas,  the  same  who,  with  his  suc- 
cors, had  been  vainly  expected  at  the  Serapeum.  The  state  had  con- 
fiscated these  extensive  and  valuable  possessions;  and,  after  retiring 
from  llie  service,  Constantine  had  purchased  them  with  the  large 
fortune  which  old  Damia  had  lefi  to  her  irrandchild,  Gorgo. 

The  merchant  Porphyrins'  sons  had  fortunately  escaped  the 
massacre  at  Thessalonica,  and  since  they  were  Christians,  piously 
devoted  to  their  church,  already  in  his  life-time,  iie  passed  over  to 
them  his  business,  and  a  large  share  of  his  wealth,  in  order  to  be 
without  a  care  as  to  his  last  will,  and  keeping  entirely  aloof  trom 
the  Christian  Church,  serve  the  old  gods.  Tlie  bpautiful  art  treas- 
tires,  which  Constantine  and  Gorgo  found  in  Barcas'  house,  were 
carefully  preserved,  and  soon,  in  this  region,  too,  only  a  few 
heathen  were  left,  although  earlier  it  had  been  the  center  of  many 
insurrections  in  favor  of  the  old  c;od8. 

Little  Papias  M'as  brought  up  m  ith  Dada,  Cecilia's  children,  on 
Marcus'  estates,  and  far  from  liis  sister;  for,  alter  she  had  been  re- 
lieved ot  the  charge  of  her  little  brother,  she  had  sought  and  found 
a  life  path  of  her  own. 

After  his  parents'  death,  fighting  for  berapis,  the  sorely  wounded 
Orpheus  had  been  conveyed  to  the  hospital,  of  which  Eusebius  had 
the  spiritual  oversight 

Agnes  had  undertaken  to  nurse  him.  and  watched  by  his  couch 
ninht  and  day.  For  Dada  and  little  Papias  had  gone  away  under 
charge  of  Eusebius,  and.  in  Marcus'  name,  she  had  received  the 
assurance  that,  in  the  event  ot  the  good  deacon's  death,  both  she  and 
)ier  brother  should  ijo  taken  the  very  l)est  caie  of.  For  the  present 
the  child's  education  liad  been  committed  to  that  venerable  man, 
and  he  daily  delighted  Agnes  by  repoiting  to  her  tlie  good  (pialities 
in  the  boy,  that  he  supposed  he  hiniselt  to  have  newly  discovered. 


SEKAPIS.  509 

As  to  the  little  fellow  himself,  he  was  well  content  in  his  new 
home;  and.  rejoiced  as  he  was  to  see  Agnes  attain,  after  his  sister's 
departure,  he  bounded  oft  luerril}-,  wilh  Eusebius  and  his  Dada. 

Orpheus  recognized  neither  the  maiden  noi  the  child,  and,  after 
his  visitors  lett  the  sick-chambler,  spoke  louder  than  ever  to  the 
great  x\.pollo  and  other  heathen  gods.  'I'hen  he  -fancied  himself 
doins  battle  tor  berapis;  and,  in  imagination,  hewed  down  thousands 
of  Christian  opponents. 

In.  such  fits  of  rage,  Agnes  spoke  kindly  to  him  (although  he  but 
seldom  recognized  her),  and  tried  also  to  speak  to  him  of  her  Saviour 
and  everlasting  lite;  but  ever  he  would  begin  again  his  sinful  dis- 
course, and  sometimes  curse  her. 

Such  deep  sorrow  she  had  never  experienced  before  as  at  this  bed- 
side, and  yet  she  could  not  take  her  eyes  off  his  face;  and  when  she 
said  to  herself  that  he  would  soon  cease  to  be,  and  that  the  glance 
of  his  eye  could  never  more  meet  hers,  it  seemed  to  he  as  if  the 
light  of  the  sua  would  shine  no  more  for  her,  and,  in  future,  all  on 
earth  be  dark.  But  his  sound  constitution  made  him  last  several 
more  days  acd  nights.  On  his  last  evening  he  took  Agnes  for  a 
nurse,  called  to  her,  and  then,  with  his  hand  in  hers,  fell  back  sense- 
less upon  his  bed,  to  move  no  more;  but  while  she  waited  anxious- 
ly, minute  after  minute,  dreading  lest  his  hand  shotild  grow  cold  in 
hers,  she  listened  to  the  conversation  of  two  deaconesses,  who  were 
watching  by  the  couch  of  the  slumbering  patient. 

The  one  told  the  other  that  her  sister's  husband,  a  stone-nr.ason, 
had  died  as  an  arch-enemy  to  the  Christians,  and  asliff-necked 
pagan.  Then  her  sister  Dorothea  had  taken  upon  herself  the  task 
of  saving  his  soul.  She  fled  from  her  children,  leaving  them  to  the 
tender  mercies  of  the  community,  and  repaired  to  a  convent  in  order 
to  pray  there  in  secret  for  the  redemption  of  her  deceased  husband's 
soul. 

in  the  beginning,  he  had  appeared  to  her  with  angry  gestures,  in 
company  with  centaurs  and  club  footed  creatures,  and  bidden  her 
go  back  to  her  chililren,  and  leave  his  soul  in  peace,  for  he  liked  it 
right  well  among  these  merry  devils;  but  soon  afterward  he  had  ap- 
proached her  with  scorched  limbs,  and  besought  her  to  plend  pite- 
ousl}'  for  his  pardon,  because  he  was  being  grievously  tormented  in 
hell. 

Then  Dorothea  had  retired  to  the  desert  at  Colcium,  and  still  lived 
in  a  cave  there,  being  fed  on  herbs,  roots,  and  mussels  that  the  sia 
casts  on  the  strand.  She  bad  deprived  herself  of  sleep,  and  still 
prayed  day  and  night  for  the  soul  ot  her  husband;  and  power  liad 
l)een  given  her  to  keep  ever  in  view  her  own  and  her  husband's  wel- 
fare, and  to  think  no  more  about  hei  children.  Such  fervid  devotion 
had  finally  attained  the  fairest  reward,  for  it  had  been  sonje  time 
since  the  deceased  had  appeared  to  her,  clad  in  white  raiment,  and 
often  attended  by  beautiful  angels. 

Agnes  had  lost  not  a  word  of  this  narration;  and  when,  on  the 
fdllowing  day,  she  felt  Orpheus  grow  cold,  and  looked  upon  the 
painfully  contracted  features  of  the  dead,  cold  shudders  ran  over 
iicr;  for  she  said  to  herself,  this  dead  man,  like  J^orotliea's  husband, 
will -have  to  endure  many  tortures  in  hell.   When  they  left  her  alone 


210  SEUAris. 

■nilh  him,  thon,  she  stooped  down  lo  him,  kissed  his  pallid  lips,  and 
vowed  to  save  his  eoul. 

Ou  the  same  eveuinix  ehe  went  back  to  Eusebius,  and  revealed  to 
him  her  wish  to  iro  into  the  Colcian  desert,  to  join  there  another 
female  anchorite. 

The  old  man  begged  her  to  slay  at  his  house,  and  watch  over  her 
little  brother,  also  not  to  leave  his  old  companion  and  himself  alone. 
He  explained  that  it  was  a  beautiful  service,  on  the  Christian's  part, 
to  exercise  loving  kindness  and  care  for  aged  friends  iu  their  feeble- 
ness. 

The  deacon's  wife,  with  tears,  joined  her  entreaties  to  his;  but 
suddenly  a  strange  coldness  had  steeled  Agnes'  heart;  with  dry  eyes 
she  insisted  upon  having  her  way,  and  look  leave  of  her  benefactors 
aud  Papias.  On  foot,  and  besjging  her  food,  she  traveled  to  the 
south-east,  until  she  reached  the  shores  of  the  Red  Sea.  There  she 
found  the  stone-mason's  widow,  with  silvered  hair,  emaciated,  and 
nitrh  unto  death.  She  remained  by  her,  closed  her  eyes,  continued 
in  the  same  cavern  the  deceased's  mode  of  life,  and  the  fame  of  her 
sanctity  gradual^'  ]ieuetraied  tur  beyond  the  confines  of  Egyi)t. 

As  a  grown  man  and  steward  ot  the  now  elderly  Demetrius, 
Papias  visited  her,  in  order  to  induce  her  follow  him  to  his  new 
home;  but  she  would  not  consent,  preferring  to  remain  in  her  soli- 
tary cell.  She  would  not  hbve  exchanged  this  lor  a  king's  palace, 
inasmuch  as  long  since  Orpheus  had  appeared  to  her  ever}'  night, 
encircled  by  a  halo  of  heavenly  light,  and  the  time  drew  near  when 
she  might  hope  to  met-t  him  again. 

The  Widow  Maria,  in  her  later  years,  undertook  many  a  pilgrim- 
age to  shrines  and  holy  persons,  and  among  them  the  hermiless 
Agnes;  but  at  Cyrenaica,  whither  her  chilaren  aud  grandchildren 
frequently  invited  her.  she  never  visited;  for  it  needed  stronger  at- 
tractions to  induce  her  to  sulimit  to  the  discomforts  of  a  journey. 

Before  her  end  every  vestige  of  pagimism  had  vanished  from  the 
old  Greek  city.  AYiih  it  departed  her  crlory  and  petished  hei 
grandeur,  and  of  ail  the  splendors  of  that  second  mistress  of  the 
world,  the  citj'  of  Serapis,  nothing  has  been  left  but  one  mighty 
column,  towering  heaven waril,  which  belonged  to  that  subtime 
temple  of  the  prince  of  gods,  whose  fall  marked  the  close  of  a  great 
era  in  the  spiritual  life  of  humanity.  Like  that  column,  so  the 
heathen  conception  ot  beauty  in  the  concrete  has  not  been  lost.  We 
look  up  to  both,  and  where  the  living  soul  of  Christianity  fills  ;ind 
Iienetrates  this  beautiful  form  with  its  light,  theie  has  been  fulfilled 
liie  fairest  hope  of  old  Eusebius.  In  Christian  art  the  twain  have 
been  made  one. 


(3oob  JBoo?^9  for  !IBo^0  anb  (Birla. 

Handsomely  Bound  in  Cloth. 


Ballant^ne  (Ir?.  /IS.),   a  Libeaky  of  Stoky  and  Advent- 

TJEE.  Printed  from  large,  clear  type;  Landsomely 
Illustrated.  4  vols.,  12mo.  Cloth,  black  and  gold  ; 
Ijoxed,  $3.00. 

1.  The  Red  Eeic,  or.  the  Whaleb's  Last  Cruise. 

2.  Erling  the  Bold  ;  a  Tale  of  the  Norse  Sea  Kings. 

3.  The  Fire  Brigade,  or  Fightikg  the  Flames. 

4.  Deep  Down  ;  a  Tale  of  the  Cornish  Mines. 

5.  Gascoyne,  the  Sandal  Wood  Tr^uder. 

minaStOn  CMtlUam  to*  C.)»  a  Library  of  Adventure. 
Printed  from  large,  clear  type;  Landsomely  Illustrated. 
6  vols.,  12mo.     Cloth,  black  and  gold,  $4.50. 

1.  Mark  Seaworth,  a  Tale  of  the  Indian  Ocean. 

2.  Round  the  World. 

3.  Salt  Water,  or  the  Sea  Life  and  Adventures  of  Neh, 

D'Arcy. 

4.  Peter  the  Whaeer  ;  his  Early  Life  and  Adventures. 

5.  The  Midshipman,  ]\Iarmaduke  SIerry. 

6.  The  Young  Foresters,  and  Other  T\\les. 

©reenwoob's  (6race)  Stories*    New  edition.   The 

volumes  are  finely  printed  on  heavy  paper,  Illustrated, 
Landsomely  bound  in  cloth,  with  ink  and  gold  stamp- 
ing. 8  vols..  Library  cloth,  $4.75.  4  vols..  Popular 
cloth,  $2.50. 

1.  Stories  for  Home  Folks  ;  Stopjes  and  Sights  of  France 

and  Italy. 

2.  Stories  from  Famous  B.allads  ;  History  op  My  Pets  ; 

Recollections  of  IMy  Childhood. 
S.  Stories  of  LIany  Lands  ;  Stories  and  Legends  of  Traves 

and  History. 
4.  Merkie  England  ;  Bonnie  Scotland. 

JOHN  W.   LOVELL  COMPANY,   NiiW   YORK. 


Good  asoofts  tor  JBogs  aiiD  Olrls— CoiitfnucD. 

Hrabian  IRlgbts'  Bntertalnment    The  TnorsAND 

AXD  One  Niohts.  TrauslatcJ  from  the  Arabic,  New 
plates,  large,  clear  type.  1  vol.,  12mo.  Illustrated. 
Cloth,  black  and  gold.     Oxford  Edition,  50  cents. 

Generations  of  wise  fathers  and  mothers  have  thor- 
oughly^ proved  the  high  educational  value  of  the  Aeabl^m 
Nights  as  a  book  of  amusing  stories  for  children.  They 
stimulate  young  minds  and  create  a  taste  and  desire  for 
reading  at  a  time  when  almost  all  other  forms  of  literature 
would  be  irksome  and  uuinstructive. 

Cbil5'S  fDfStOr^  of  lEnglan^.  By  Ch.^eles  Dickens. 
A  New  Edition  for  the  use  of  scJiools.  With  numerous 
Ulnstrations.  Printed  from  large  type.  1  vol.,  12mo, 
Cloth,  black  and  gold.     Oxford  Edition,  50  cents. 

Chai"les  Dickens  wi'ote  the  Child's  History  of  England 
for  his  own  children,  because,  as  he  himself  said,  he  could 
find  nothing  in  the  whole  line  of  Eughsh  histories  just 
suitable  for  them,  at  a  time  when  they  were  beginning  to 
read  with  interest  and  profit,  but  not  sufficiently  advanced 
to  take  up  the  great  standard  authors.  It  was  a  labor  of 
love,  and  has  been  well  appreciated  by  the  multitude  of 
young  people  who  have  gained  their  first  knowledge  of 
history  from  this  delightful  little  volume.  It  is  written  in 
the  most  jDure  and  simple  language,  and  has  for  young 
readers  all  the  picturesque  and  vivid  interest  that  one  of 
the  author's  novels  possesses  for  the  older  ones.  All  the 
gi'eat  characters  of  English  history  become  as  familiar  and 
produce  as  permanent  imjn-essions,  as  the  heroes  of  the 
Ai'abian  Nights  and  of  the  other  favorite  books  of  child- 
hood. It  is  not  only  indispensable  iu  every  household 
where  any  care  at  all  is  bestowed  upon  the  education  of 
children,  but  it  is  also  one  of  the  best  brief  and  compen- 
dious histories  of  England  for  all  classes  of  readers. 

JOHN  W.   JiOVELL  COMPANY,  NEW  YOEK. 


JOHN   W.    LOVELL   COMPANY'S   PUBLICATIONS. 


IRugbi^  Ebition 


BOOKS    FOR    BOYS    AND    GIRLS. 

These  are  baiidsomo  12mo.  volumes,  substantially  bound  in  best 
Englisli  cloth  and  stamped  from  original  designs  in  colored  ink  and  frold, 

PRICE,  75  CENTS  PER  VOLUME. 

The  works  have  boon  especially  selected  from  the  most  noted  authors 
f  f  juvenile  literature  and  in  every  case  are  works  that  can  bo  brought  into 
the  home  for  instruction  and  entertainment  without  fear  or  the  results 
which  often  follow  the  reading  of  low-priced  li'orature. 


Abbott's  Stories  for  Children.     By  Jacob  Abbott. 

Adventures  niuong  the  Indians. 

Adventures,  Forest  and  Frontier. 

Adventures  of  Famous  Travellers, 

Adventures  of  Famous  Sailors. 

Adventures  of  Bob  Boy,  The.     By  James  Grant. 

Afloat  in  the  Forest.      By  Capt.  Mayue  Beid. 

Alice's  Adventures  in  Wonderland.     By  Lewin  CarrolL 

Audubon  the  Naturalist.     By  Mrs.  Horace  St.  John. 

Aunt  Diana.     By  Bosa  Nouchetto  Carey. 

Barbara's  Triumph.     By  Mary  A.  Denison. 

Boy  Conqueror. 

Boy  Crusoes  ;  or.  The  Young  Islanders. 

Boys'  and  Girls'  Story  Book. 

Boy  Hunters.      By  Capt.  Mayno  Beid. 

Boys  in  the  Forecastle,  The.     By  Geo.  H.  Coomer. 

Boys  of  the  Bible. 

Boy  Slaves,     By  Caj^t.  Mayno  Eeid. 

Boy  Tar.     By  Capt.  Mayne  Eeid. 

Bruin.     By  Capt.  Mayne  Beid. 

Bush  Boys.     By  Capt.  Mayne  Beid. 

Cast  Up  by  the  Sea.     By  Sir  Samuel  Baker. 

JOHN  W.    LOVELL  COMPANY.    NEW   YORK, 


JOHT^  W.    LOVELL  COItlPAITY'a  PUBTJCATIOXa 
TRiujl'K  ;GDltion— Continued. 

— . .^i; 

Cliff  Climbers.     By  Cupt.  Mtiyno  Heid. 

Daniel  Boouc,  Life  of. 

Chiklreu's  stories. 

Beep  Down.     By  Ballantyne. 

Desert  Home.     By  Capt.  Maj'ne  Raid. 

Dick  Chcveley.     By  W.  II.  (J.  Kingston. 

Dick  Rodney.     By  J.  Grant. 

Eastern  Fairy  Legends,  Current  in  Houtberu  Indisk 

Edgewortb's  Parents'  Assistant. 

Edgewortli's  Moral  Tales. 

Edgewortli's  Poi^ular  Tales. 

Edgeworth's  Classic  Tales. 

Eight  Years'  Wandering  in  Ceylon.     By  Sir  S.  Baker. 

Eric  Dane.     By  M.  White,  Jr. 

Erling  the  Bold.     By  R.  ^L  Ballantyne. 

Esther.     By  Rosa  IT.  Carey. 

Famous  Boys. 

Famous  Men. 

Fire  Brigade,  The.     By  R.  IL  Ballantyne. 

Flag  of  Distress.     By  Capt.  Mayne  Reid. 

Flat  Iron  for  a  Farthing,  A.     By  Mi's.  Ewing, 

Forest  Exiles.     By  Capt.  Mayne  Reid. 

Fort  PiUow  to  the  End.     By  William  M.  Thayc.-. 

Fort  Sumter  to  Roanoke  Island.     By  Wm.  ]\L  Thayer. 

Frank  Wildman's  Adventui-es  on  Land  and  Water.     By 

Frederick  Gerstaecker. 
Gascoyne.     By  R.  M  Ballantyne. 
German  Fairy  Tales.     Translated  by  Chas.  A.  Dana. 
Gilbert  the  Trapper,     By  Capt.  C.  M.  Ashley. 
Giraffe  Hunters.     By  Capt.  Mayne  Reid. 
Golden  Magnet,  The.     By  G.  M.  Fenn. 
Gracie  Goodwin.     A  Story  for  Girls. 
Grandfather's  Chair.     By  Nathaniel  Hawthorne. 
Grey  Hawk.     By  James  INIacaulay. 
Harlie's  Letters.     By  Jacob  Abbott 
Hauffs  Fairy  Tales. 

JOm^  W.   LOVELL  COMPANY,   NEW   YORK. 


JOHN    W.    LOVELL   COMPANY'^   rUBLICATIONS. 


•Kugbg  BDftion— ContfnueD. 


In  Southern  Seas.     By  Frank  H.  Converse. 
In  the  Wilds  of  New  Mexico.     By  G.  M.  Fenn. 
Jackanapes  and  Other  Tales,      By  Mrs.  Ewing. 
Jack  Wheeler.     By  Capt.  David  Southwick. 
Land  of  Mystery.     By  11.  H.  Jayne. 
Luke  Beunet's  Hide  Out.     By  Capt.  C.  B.  Ashley. 
Magician's  Show-box,  The,  and  Other  Stories. 
Mark  Sea  worth.     By  Yv'.  H.  G.  Kingston. 
Merle's  Crusade.     By  Ivosa  N.  Carey. 
Midshipman,  The.     By  W.  IT.  G.  Kingston. 
MoLintain  C;ive,  The.      By  Geo.  II.  Coomer. 
Murfreesboro  to  Forfc  Piilov/.      By  YV'illiam  IM.  Thayer, 
Mystery  of  a  Diamond,  The.     By  Frank  H.  Converse. 
Nature's  Young  Nobleman,     By  Broo]-:s  McCormick. 
Number  91.     By  Arthur  Lee  Putnam. 
Ocean  Waifs.     By  Capt.  IMayne  Keid. 
Odd  People.     By  Capt.  Mayne  Eeid. 
Old  Merry's  Travels  on  the  Continent, 
On  the  Trail  of  Geronimo,     By  E.  H.  Jayne. 
Oriental  Fairy  Talcs. 

Our  Young  Soldiers.     By  Lieut.  W.  B.  Hamilton. 
Paul  Blake.     Adventures  of  a  Boy  in  the  Island  of  Cor- 
sica, etc. 
Perils  of  the  Jungle.     By  Lieut.  E.  H.  Jayne. 
Peter  the  Whaler.      By  W.  H.  G.  Kingston. 
Pirate  Island.     By  Harry  Collin gwood. 
Plant  Hunters.     JBy  Capt.  Mayne  Eeid. 
Popvilar  Natur;d  History. 
Ean  Away  to  Sea.     By  Capt.  Mayne  Eeid. 
Red  Eric,  The.     By  E.  j\I.  Ballantyno. 
Rifle  and  Hound  in  Ceylon,  Tlie.     By  Sir  Samull  Baker. 
Roanoke  Island  to  Mui-freesboro.     By  Wm.  M.  Thayer. 
Robin  Hood  and  His  Merry  I'orresters. 
Round  the  World.     By  W.  H.  G.  Kingston, 
Salt  Water.     By  W.  H.  G,  Kingston, 
Sandford  and  Merton. 


JOHN  W.  LOVELT.  COMPANY,  NEW  YOEK. 


JOHN   AV.    LOVELL   COMPANY'S   rURLTOATIONS. 

IRugbg  BDftfon— ContinueO. 

School  Life  ;  or,  Thi-ee  Tears  at  Wolverton. 

Smnpfgler's  Cave,  Tlio.     By  Annie  Aslimore. 

Spanish  Fairy  Tales. 

Stories  about  Animals.     By  Capt.  Mayne  Eeid. 

Stories  from  American  History. 

Tlironn-h  the  Looking  Glass.     By  Lewis  CarrolL 

.  Tiger  Prince,  The.     I3y  William  Dalton. 

Tom  Tracy.     By  Arihur  Lee  Putnam, 

Twice  Told  Tales.     By  Kathaniel  Hawthorne. 

Voyage  to  the  Gold  Coast,  A.     By  Frank  H.  Converse. 

War  Tiger,  The.     By  William  Dalton. 

"White  Elephant,  The.     By  William  Dalton. 

White  Mustang,  The.     By  E.  H.  Jayne. 

Wild  Sports  in  tho  Far  Y\'est.     By  Frederick  Gerstaecker. 

Wolf  Boy  iu  China,  The.     Hy  William  Dalton. 

Wonders  of  tho  Great  Deep.     By  P.  H.  Gosse. 

Young  Acrobat.      By  Horatio  Alger. 

Young  Adventurer. 

Young  Foresters,  The,  and  Other  Tales. 

Young  Folks'  Book  of  Birds. 

Young  Folks'  Book  of  Book. 

Young  Folks'  Histoi-y  of  France.     By  C.  ]\L  Yonge. 

Young  Folks'  History  of  Germany.     By  C.  M.  Yonge. 

Young  Folks'  History  of  Greece. 

Young  Folks'  History  of  Rome. 

Young  Voyagers.     By  Capt.  IMayne  Eeid. 

Young  Yagers.      By  Capt.  Mayne  Eeid. 

Young  Folks'  Historical  Tales.  By  William  and  Eobert 
Chambers. 

Young  Folks'  Tales  of  Adventures.  By  W' illiam  and  Eob- 
ert Chambers. 

Young  Folks'  Popular  Tales.  By  William  and  Eobert 
Chambers. 

Young  Folks'  Scottish  Tales.  By  William  and  Eobert 
Chambers. 

Young  Folks'  Natural  History. 


JOHN  AV.    LOVELL   COMPANY,   NEW   YORK. 


«« 


JOHN  w.  LOTELL  co?.ipa::y'.s  publications. 


©yforb"  Bbition  of  l2mo8. 


The  best  selection  of  Classic  Fiction,  etc.,  forming  a  moct  de. 
sirable  line  of  two  bundred  12mos.  Printed  uniformly  in  large, 
clear  type,  on  fine  paper,  from  new  electrotype  plates,  and  very 
beautifully  bound  in  extra  cloth  and  gold,  extra  stamping  with 
ribbon  marker. 


Price   50   Cents   per  Volume. 


1  Abbot,  The.     By  Sir  Walter  Scott. 

2  Adam  Bede.     By  G.  EHot. 
8  ^sop's  Fables. 

4  Airy  Fairy  Lilian.     By  Tbe  Duchess. 

5  Alice  :  a  Sequel  to  Ernest  Maltravers.     By  Lyttoaa, 
C  Alhambra.     By  "Washington  Irving. 

7  Andersen's  Fairy  Tales. 

8  An  April  Lady.     By  The  Duchess. 

9  An  Egyptian  Princess.     By  Georg  Ebers. 

10  An  Ocean  Tragedy.     By  W.  Clark  Russell 

11  Aurelian.     By  Wm.  Ware. 

12  Aurora  Floyd.     By  Miss  M.  E.  Braddon. 

13  Arabian  Nights'  Entertainment. 

14  Arundel  Motto,  The.     By  Mary  Cecil  Hay. 

15  Barnaby  Eudge.     By  Charles  Dickens. 

16  Baron  Munchausen. 

17  Beyond  Pardon.     By  Bertha  M.  Clay. 


JOHN  W.   LOVELL  COMPANY,    NEW  YOEK, 


JOHN  W.    LOVELL  COMPANY'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


"OjforD"  ;i£Dition  of  l2mos— ContinucD. 

18  Birds  of  Prey.     By  Miss  M.  E.  Braddon. 

19  ]5,  ndmau,  The.     By  Hall  Caine. 

20  Bride  of  Lammernioor.     By  Sir  "Walter  Scoti 

21  Bride  of  tLo  Nile.     By  Georg  Ebers. 

22  Cast  up  by  tlio  Sea.     By  Sii-  Samuel  Baker. 

23  Catherine.     By  XV.  M.  Thackeray. 

24  Chaplet  of  Pearls.     By  Charlotte  M.  Yonge. 

25  Chandos.     By  Ouida. 

26  Charles  Auchestei'.     By  E.  Berger, 

27  Charlotte  Temple.     By  Jlrs.  Kowson. 

28  Children  of  the  Abbey.     By  Piegina  INIaria  Eoche. 

29  Child's  History  of  England.     By  Charles  Dickens. 

30  Christmas  Stories.     By  Charles  Dickens. 

31  Coming  Eace.     By  Lord  Lytton. 

32  Conigsby.     By  Lord  Beaconsfield. 

33  Cousin  Pons.     By  Honoru  do  Balzac. 

34  Crown  of  Wild  Olives.     By  John  Euskin. 

35  Daniel  Deronda.     By  Geoi-ge  Eliot. 

3G  Deldee  ;  or,  The  Iron  Hand.     By  Florence  WardeiL 

37  Daughter  of  an  Empress,  The.     By  Louisa  Muhlbach. 

38  David  Copperfield.     By  Charles  Dickens. 

39  Daughter  of  Heth.     By  WilHam  Black. 

40  Deemster,  Tlio.     By  Hall  Caine. 

41  Deerslayer.     By  J.  Fenimorc  Cooper. 

42  Denis  Duval     By  W.  M.  Thackeray. 

43  Dick's  Sweetheart.     By  The  Duchess. 

44  Dombey  and  Son.     By  Charles  Dickens. 

45  Donal  Grant.     By  George  Macdonald. 


JOHN  W.    LOVELL  COMPANY,   NEW  YORK, 
a 


JOHN   Yv'.    LOVELL   COMPANY'R   TUBLICATIONS. 

"OitorD"  Edition  ot  1 2mo6— Continued. 

46  Donovan.     V>y  Euna  Lyall. 

47  Don  Quixote.     By  Cervantes. 

48  Dora  Tborno.     Ey  Bertha  M.  Clay. 

49  Dove   in    tlio   Eagle's   Nest,   The.     By   Charlotte   M. 

Yonge. 

50  Duke's  Secret,  The.     By  Bertha  M.  Clay. 

51  East  Lynne.     By  IVIrs.  Henry  Wood. 

52  Effie  Ogilvie.     By  J.Irs.  OliiDhant. 

53  Egoist,  The.     By  George  Mcreditla. 

54  Ernest  IMaltravers.     By  Lord  Lyttoru 

55  Eugene  Aram.     By  Lord  Lytton. 
ZG  Fair  "Women.     By  Mrs.  Forrester. 

57  Faith  and  Unfaith.     By  The  Ducliess. 

58  Falso  Start,  A,     By  Hawley  Smart. 

59  Far  from  tlie  Madding  Crowd.     By  Tliomas  Hardy. 
CO  Felix  Holt.     By  George  Eliot. 

CI  File  No.  113.     By  EmHe  Gaboriau. 

C2  First  Violin,  The.     By  Jessie  FothergilL 

G3  For  Lilias.     By  Rosa  Nouclietto  Carey. 

CI  Foul  Play.     By  Charles  Reade. 

G5  Flying  Dutchman.     By  W.  Clark  Russell. 

C6  Frederick    the    Great   and    His   Court.       By    Louisa 

Muhlbach. 
C7  GUded  Clique,  Tlie.     By  Emilo  Gaboriau. 
C8  Gold  Elsie.     By  E.  Marlitt. 

69  Great  Expectations.     By  Charles  Dickens. 

70  Grimm's  Fairy  Tales.     Dlustrated.     By  th«  Brothei-Q 

Grimm. 


JOHN  W.    LOVELL  COMPANY,   NEW  YORK, 
9 


JOHN  ^^^  lovell  coi\rPANY's  publications. 


'OjfocD"  j£D(tion  ct  12mo6— Continued. 


71  Gi-ccu  Mountain  Boys.     By  Judge  D.  P.  Thompson. 

72  Griffith  Gaunt.     By  Chas.  Eeade. 

73  Guilderoy.     By  Ouida. 

74  Gulliver's  Travels.     By  Beau  Swift. 

75  Guy  Mannering.     By  Sir  Walter  Scott. 

76  Hardy  Norseman,  A.     By  Edna  LyalL 

77  Harry  Lorrequer.     By  Charles  Lever. 

78  Handy  Andy.     By  Samuel  Lover. 

79  Henry  Esmond.     By  W.  U.  Thackeray. 

80  House  on  the  Marsh.     By  Florence  Warden. 

81  Hypatia.     By  Charles  Kingsley. 

82  In  Peril  of  His  Life.     By  Emile  Gaboriau. 

83  In  the  Schillingscourt.     By  E.  Marlitt 

84  Ivanhoe.     By  Sir  "Walter  Scott. 

85  Jane  Eyre.     By  Charlotte  Bronte. 
8G  John  Halifax.     By  IMiss  Mulock. 

87  June.     By  IMi's.  Forrester. 

88  Kenelm  Chillingly.     By  Lord  Lytton. 

89  Knickerbocker  History  of  New  York.     By  W.  Irring. 

90  Knight-Errant.     By  Edna  Lyall. 

91  Lady  Audley's  Secret.     By  M.  E.  Braddon. 

92  Last  Days  of  Pompeii.     By  Lord  Lytton. 

93  Last  of  the  Mohicans.     By  Cooper. 

94  Lady  Castlemaine's  Divorce.     By  Bertha  M.  Clay. 

95  Lerouge  Case.     By  Emile  Gaboriau. 

96  Lorna  Doone.     By  R.  D.  Blackmore. 

97  Lothaii*.     By  Lord  Beacousfield. 

»8  Macleod  of  Dare.     By  William  Black. 


JOHN  W.   LOVLLL  COMPANY,   NEW  YORK. 
4 


JOHN"  W.    LOVELL  CO:\IPANY'S   PUBLICATIONS. 

"©jforO"  ;eDition  of  1 2mo6— Continued, 

99  Madcap  Tiolet.     By  William  Black. 

100  Martin  Cbuzzlewit.     By  Charles  Dickens. 

101  Marcli  in  the  Banks,  A.     By  Jessie  FothergiU. 

102  Masterman  Beady.     By  Marryat. 

103  Master  Passion.     By  Florence  Marryat, 

104  Midaiemarck     By  George  Eliot. 

105  Itini  on  the  Floss.     By  George  EHot. 

106  Molly  Bawn.     By  The  Duchess. 

107  Moonstone,  The.     By  W.  Colling. 

108  Monastery.     By  Sir  Walter  Scott. 

109  Monsieur  Lecoq.     By  Emile  Gaboriau. 

110  Moths.     By  Ouida. 

111  Murders  in  the  Eue  Morgue.     By  Poe. 

112  My  Heart's  Darling.     By  W.  Heimburg. 

113  My  Lord  and  My  Lady.     By  llvs.  Forrester. 

114  Mystery  of  Orcival.     By  Gaboriau. 

115  Mysterious  Island,  The.     By  Jules  Yerne. 

116  Nick  of  the  Vv'oods.     By  E.  M.  Bird. 

117  Nicholas  Nickleby.     By  Charles  Dickens. 

118  No  Name.     By  Wilkie  Collins. 

119  Not  like  Other  Girls.     By  Eosa'N.  Carey. 

120  Old  Curiosity  Shop.     By  Charles  Dicken*. 

121  Old  Mam'selle's  Secret.     By  E.  Marlitt. 

122  Old  Myddleton's  Money.     By  M.  C.  Hay. 

123  Oliver  Twist.     By  Charles  Dickens. 

124  Only  the  Governess.     By  Eosa  Nouchette  Carey. 

125  Other  People's  Money.     By  Gaboriau. 

126  Othmar.     By  Ouida. 

JOHN  W.    LOVELL  COMPANY,   NEW  YORK. 
6 


JOHN  W.    LOVELL   COMPANY'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

"©jforD"  EDition  of  1 2mo6— Continued. 

127  Our  Mutual  Friend.     By  Charles  Dickens. 

128  Owl  House,  Tiic.     By  E.  Mai-litt. 

129  Pair  of  Blue  Eyes,  A.     By  Thomas  Hardy. 

130  Pathfinder.     By  J.  Fenimorc  Cooper. 

131  Paul  and  Virginia,  and  Rasselas. 

132  Phantom  Ship,  The.     By  Marryat. 

133  Pickwick  Papers.     By  Charles  Dickens. 

134  Pilgrim's  Progress.     By  John  Bunyau. 

135  Pilot,  The.     By  J.  Fenimorc  Cooper. 
13G  Pioneer,  The.     By  J.  Fenimorc  Cooper. 

137  Prairie,  The.     By  J.  Fenimoro  Cooper. 

138  Prime  Minister,  The.     By  Anthony  TroUope. 

139  Princess  of  the  Moor,  The.     By  E,  Marlitt. 

140  Queen  Hortensc.     By  Louisa  Muhlbach. 

141  Eedgauntlet.     By  Su'  Walter  Scott. 

142  Bed  Rover.     By  J.  Fenimorc  Cooper. 

143  Reproach  of  Annersley.     By  IMaxwell  Gray. 

144  Rhoda  Fleming.     By  George  Mei-edith. 

145  Robinson  Crusoe.     By  Daniel  Defoe. 

146  Rob  Roy.     By  Sir  Walter  Scott. 

147  Romance  of  a  PSor  Young  Man.     By  Feuillet 

148  Rory  O'Morc.     By  Samuel  Lover. 

149  Romola.     By  Geo.  EUot. 

150  Scottish  Chiefs.     By  Jane  Porter. 

151  Search  for  Basil  Lyndhurst.     By  R.  N.  Carey. 

152  Second  Wife,  The.     By  E.  Marlitt. 

153  Sesame  and  Lilies.     By  John  Ruskin. 

154  Set  in  Diamonds.     By  Bertha  M.  Clay. 

JOHN  W.    LOVELL  COMPANY,   NEW  YORK. 
6: 


JOHN  W.    LOVELL  COMPANY'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

♦•©jforD"  JBi>ltion  of  12mo3— Continued. 

155  Shandon  Bslls.     By  William  Black. 

loG  Shirley.     By  Charlotte  Bronte. 

157  Silence  of  Dean  Maitland.     By  j\Iaxwell  Gray. 

158  Sketch  Book.     By  "Washington  Irving;. 

159  Spy,  The.     By  J.  Fenimore  Cooper. 

1  CO  Squire's  Legacy.     By  Mary  Cecil  Hay. 

ICl  Antiquary,  The.     By  Sir  Walter  Scott. 

1G2  Strange  Adventures  of  a  Phaeton.     By  V/.  Black. 

1G3  Strange  Case  of  Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde.     By  Pco'b. 

ert  Louis  Stevenson. 
lG-4  Strange  Story,  A.     By  Lord  Lyttou. 
1G5  Sunshine  and  Hoses.     By  Bertha  M.  Clay. 
16G  Swiss  Family  Kobinson. 
1G7  Syrlin.     By  Ouida. 

1G8  Tale  of  Two  Cities.     By  Charles  Dickens. 
1G9  The  Young  Duke.     By  Beaconsfield. 

170  Thaddeus  of  Y/arsaw.     By  Jane  Porter. 

171  The  Countess  Eve.     By  J.  H.  Shorthouse. 

172  The  Fairy  of  the  Alps.     By  E.  Werner. 

173  Three  Guardsmen.     By  Alexandre  Dumas. 

174  Tom  Brown's  Schooldays.     By  Thomas  Hughes. 

175  Tom  Brown  at  Oxford.     By  Thomas  Hughes. 

176  Tom  Cringle's  Log.     By  Michael  Scott. 

177  Tour  of  the  World  in  80  Days.     By  Jules  Yerne. 

178  Twenty  Years  After.     By  Alexandre  Dumaa 

179  20,000  Leagues  Under  the  Sea.      By  Jules  Yerne. 

180  Twice  Told  Tales.     By  Nathaniel  Hawthorne. 

181  Two  Years  Before  the  Mast.     By  E.  H.  Dana,  Jr. 

JOHN  W.    LOVELL    COMPANY,    NEW   YORK. 
1 


JOHN   W.    LOVELL   COMPANY'S    PUBLTCATIOlfS. 


"©jforO"  BMtlon  Of  l2mos-ContinueC>. 

182  Uarda.     By  Georg  Ebers. 

183  Yauity  Fair.     By  W.  IL  Thackeray. 

184  Vendetta,  The.     By  Balzac. 

185  Vicar  of  Wakefield.     By  Oliver  Goldsmith. 
18G  Vivian  Grey.     By  Lord  Beaconsfield. 

187  Vixen.     By  Miss  M.  E.  Braddon. 

188  Waverley.     By  Sir  Walter  Scott. 

189  We  Two.     By  Edna  LyaH. 

190  Wee  Wifie.     By  Eosa  N.  Carey. 

191  What's  Mine's  Mine.     By  George  Macdonald, 

192  Whittier's  Poems.     By  J.  G.  Whittier. 

193  Widow  Bedott  Papers.     Mrs.  Whitcher. 

194  Willy  ReiUy.     By  AVilliam  Carleton. 

195  Woman's  Face,  A.     By  Mrs.  Alexander. 

196  Woman  in  White,  The.     By  Wilkie  Collins. 

197  Woman's  Love  Utorj,  A.     By  Bertha  M.  Clay. 

198  Wooing  O't.     By  Mrs.  Alexander. 

199  Zanoni,     By  Lord  Lytton. 

200  Zenobia.     By  Wm.  Ware. 


JOHN    W.    LOVELL    COMPANY. 

1 42  to  1  50  Worth   Street, 

Corner   Mission    Place,  NEW   YORK. 

e 


RETURN    CIRCULATION  DEPARTMENT 
TQ^ii»    202  Main  Library 


LOAN  PERIOD 
HOME  USE 


ALL  BOOKS  MAY  BE  RECALLED  AFTER  7  DAYS 

Renewals  and  Recharges  may  be  made  4  days  prior  to  the  due  date. 

Books  may  be  Renewed  by  calling        642-3405  


DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 


Li;3C-^AHv  LlbfcOi-JL«" 


JAN  '  2  19S'i 


CinOUlT'TlOro  cnpT. 


FORM  NO.  DD6 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  BERKELEY 
BERKELEY,  CA  94720  __^ 


a  45836^. 


S^'^Sh^^  U  ^    BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


<:D^Esalll=,D 


r^l^-uk.  j_ 


q^ 


